


and empty words are evil

by missvandone



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson Friendship, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, F/M, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Red Robin, metahuman OC, not beta read we die like men, reader has a name and it is Grace, slowburn romance, tw: non-explicit rape on prologue, tw:homophobia in a few chapters, will do a trigger warning in every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missvandone/pseuds/missvandone
Summary: “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”– Emily Brontë,Wuthering HeightsGrace Henderson was trying to live a normal andboringlife, as in not using her powers that much or trying to take the law into her own hands, but Gotham City made it very difficult.A lot.The city never rested and every day something new happened. Most of the time it was bad, who was she kidding? Nevertheless, for the past year, she had been quite successful with it.Until Harley Quinn crossed her path, decided to crack her skull open on a bathroom's mirror in a shabby nightclub, and subsequently tried to kill Grace when she had tried to stop her from killing herself.Nothing would ever be the same for Grace after that damned night.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Reader, Jason Todd/You, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 22
Kudos: 123





	1. prologue

> _“I let you die. To save myself, I let you die._
> 
> _That is the danger in keeping company with survivors.”_
> 
> _―_ Leigh Bardugo _, Ninth House_

_**6 years ago – Central Park, New York** _

Running had always helped clear her mind so she could later decide if to do something or not. She had always been a bit impulsive, acting on the spur of the moment and then regretting it. So, as a result, one day her grandfather had sat her down and gave her the best advice she had ever gotten. 

_“If you cannot concentrate, or decide what to do, just ran. It helps, sweetheart. It keeps you centered, and your mind much cleared than when you started.”_ her grandpa, who had served in the Vietnam War and had days where his eyes became all unfocused or glassy, had said while patting her cheek.

So that’s what Grace Henderson did every time she was troubled, and it did work. 

The previous day, she had been offered the opportunity to do some volunteering in another country for the summer. However, she also had started the paperwork to do a summer initiation course on her future university, Gotham University, and now she was in a crossroads.

 _Does she accept the opportunity to do some good in the world, while also helping her curriculum look better for future job interviews? Or does she participate in the summer course, so she can meet her future colleagues, perhaps even make friends –which wasn’t her forte– and beginning her university life in a much smoother way?,_ she pondered.

So, just 15 minutes before, she finally decided that she needed to do some running to set this out once and for all. She quickly sent a message to her mom telling her she was off for a run and that she had nothing to worry about.

Then, Grace put on her yoga pants, a matching bra sport with a white shirt over it and tied her long black hair in a high ponytail. When she was done, she tied her shoelaces as tightly as possible –she hated stopping to tie them– and then pressed play on her running playlist. All set up, she jogged softly towards Central Park.

“The perks of living in Manhattan,” she sighed happily.

When she arrived, the fact that not many people were around caught her attention. Even though that was normal for a Friday late evening –closer to nighttime as it was–it still was much more deserted than usual. Grace felt uneasy, her gut telling her to go home and leave it for another day, that running alone in such a big park and with not many people being around was the perfect scenario for something bad to happen. However, she put those paranoid thoughts aside and tried to reason with herself that the fewer people, the better.

“No one will interrupt and make you stop while you wait for them to clear the path.” The brunet reasoned with herself. “Stop being so paranoid, what could possibly happen? Would a tree fall in your head? C’mon!” 

So, she ignored her gut and started running, leaving the more crowded area to the biggest and more secluded park zone.

**[ * * * ]**

Grace would like to say that she fought hard, that she was brave and screamed for help as loud as possible.

But she just cried the first days and then went unresponsive.

She was in such a shock, because, how could this happen to her?

And, why her?

Why did it have to happen to her?

Throughout the first night of her kidnapping, her abusers did the absolute worst to her. The rape and the subsequent torture and beating were almost unbearable for her, after all she had never had a high pain tolerance. She cried and begged them to stop, but that only seemed to make them go a step further. Eventually, Grace couldn’t stand it anymore and her mind went into lockdown. It completely shut it all out for her, no more pain, no more cries, nothing. 

Despite that, in her sort of lucid moments, all of her hurt. 

Her heart. 

Her body. 

Her soul.

And she felt so dirty, so revolting. 

So, on the third night, Grace asked her kidnappers for just one thing. They already had had their fun with her, right? They could give her just this one thing.

“Just kill me already, please. I can’t–” She had begged, her voice tinted with pain and suffering. “I just want to get out.”

**[ * * * ]**

Grace was left for dead in Sodus Point Beach Park, near the white lighthouse, after being stabbed twenty times. Her body had been wrapped in a red carpet. The perpetrators had discarded her as if she was trash, like throwing away a Kleenex after using it. 

Some stabs were deep, but other cuts on her as the one on the neck –horizontal, as if they had planned to cut her head off but thought better – were superficial enough to not make her choke on her own blood.

That night, while waiting for the moment she would finally die, she managed to pull her head out of the carpet. Laying wounded and with her spirit broken, she almost cried from happiness when she saw the stars on the sky. Something so insignificant that usually she would have never paid much attention. Wherever she was, the pollution wasn’t as serious as in Manhattan, because the stars shined brighter than she had ever seen them.

A shooting star crossed the sky.

 _“Look, a falling star! Make a wish, Gracie!”_ she swore she could almost hear what her mother had said, back then when they had gone camping and watched the stars while eating roasted marshmallows on the campfire. “Quick, quick!”

So, she asked for something.

“To be strong, so I can survive this.” Through her tears, which she seemed unable to stop now, she saw how the falling star appeared again but this time with a bright green-bluish glow. “I really don’t want to die… but I needed it to be over.”

She waited.

 _But wait a minute, was it just her or the fucking thing was starting to look like it was falling upon her?_

It didn’t cross the star as the falling star she had seen when little, who had been quick and going horizontal. This one was falling vertical, as if straight to Earth. Towards where she was.

It came closer, then even much closer, and she tried not to laugh at the irony of dying not of her wounds but because of a fucking meteorite.

She really was an unlucky bitch.

Grace closed her eyes when the green bluish light became almost too much to bear, it even burned as if she was sunbathing, and with a painful sigh, she accepted death.


	2. one

> _“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”_
> 
> – Anais Nin

“How to be single and satisfied at the same time?” Daniel read the headline out loud, his eyes skimming through the cover of _It Girl_ with curiosity _._

Grace hummed out loud, thinking the question over while chewing her bottom lip.

“Masturbating, for sure,” Lisa said without missing a beat, Grace only seeing the top of her blonde head because of how burrowed on the laminated menu she was.

The raven-haired laughed loudly –she couldn’t help it–, but poor Daniel, red tinting his face, started looking around in case anyone at the dinner had heard them and was giving them any dirty looks. 

“Relax, Dan. No one cares.” Grace patted him on the shoulder.

Lisa seemed to have forgotten her menu and was now staring fully at Dan, a wicked smile appearing on her purple-painted lips, completely ready to bug him.

“Don’t… Leave him alone, Lisa.” Grace quickly chastised her, even kicking her under the table for emphasis, for Lisa could be the most annoying person ever when she wanted to. “And Dan, no one is paying any attention to us. Relax.”

Dan was still looking around, his face finally back to its natural color.

“It seems… everyone is paying attention to the tv?” 

Pauli’s Diner was crowded, every booth full and a long queue that reached from the counter to the door. The usual. Yet everyone’s attention, even the four waitresses, seemed to be on the tv. Grace also focused on the big tv, which was placed high at the back of the diner wall, three booths away from theirs. It was on and showcasing a newswoman reporting about something, –but without the sound and no headlines or subtitles below to indicate what she was talking about, Grace was left with more questions than answers.

“I think something happened.” Dan sounded between scared and resigned.

The three of them looked at each other, then almost comically pulled out their phones at the same time. Something always happened in Gotham –the city that never rested–, and it was a common occurrence to check the _Gotham Gazette App_ every day. After all, any good Gothamite knew that to be well informed was the key to survival in such an insane and restless city.

“Fuck. I swear if that madman of Zsasz has escaped again, I will hunt him down and drag his ass to the Asylum myself,” Lisa grunted; her pale brows furrowed tightly. “Fucking load already, stupid App!”

Grace focused on her screen, the app taking more time than usual to load.

“Mine too…” Dan’s answered in his usual hushed voice. Then, he started chewing on his lip, worry all over his face.

A big headline popped on Grace’s screen –the App finally deciding on working–, and she sighed happily after reading it.

“Seems an aircraft has fallen to the Sprang River; 20 people are currently missing and the rescue team is doing _everything in their power to get to them.”_ She literally read out loud the last words, happy that no madman was out and about on the city. “Nothing about Zsasz, sorry Lisa.”

Her two friends exhaled the air they had been holding.

“Seems your impromptu date with Zsasz will have to wait.” Grace kicked her friend’s leg again, but this time just to annoy her.

Lisa showed her the middle finger.

“No, but for real. After last time, I don’t think he is going anywhere.” The raven-haired reminded them. “He killed 5 people until Batman and young Robin stopped him.”

Grace saw Dan gulp.

“Yeah, after escaping. _Again_.” Lisa sounded mad, which was understandable after living in Gotham for five years, and seeing all the hurt Zsasz had caused many Gothamites. “And one of them was my neighbor!”

Dan sighed, remembering her. “Oh, that poor woman…”

“She was a mean bitch, though,” Lisa added as if it was vital information.

Grace couldn't help but huff indignantly.

“Lisa!”

Suddenly, one of the waitresses appeared at their booth. With a sheepish smile painted on her serene face, –probably because of how much they had had to wait– she asked them what they would like to order. 

Lisa happily asked for a sandwich and a banana smoothie, –as if the last conversation had never happened– but quickly rectified and changed for a big portion of the chocolate cake instead of the sandwich. The waitress, Marge by what the badge on her blouse said, agreed with the blonde and sang praises about how good it was. Then, her attention went to Dan, asking him sweetly what he would like to order.

The boy, who had never liked being the center of attention, turned bright red again. Shyly, he ordered a cappuccino and one of their famous big chocolate cookies, all the while his eyes were zooming on the table instead of her.

When she turned to her, Grace felt as if she had been punched on the stomach. 

The waitress aura, white and bright as any other, was twinkling and shaking from pure anxiety.

“What about you, sweetheart?” The old lady asked kindly, her face completely composed despite what her aura said of her.

The contrast between her aura and her facial expression was starting to freak Grace out. Nevertheless, she tried to focus on the present, on what she was feeling, on where she was and, more importantly, on what she wanted to eat. Which was really obvious if you knew her, by the pointed looks Lisa and Dan were giving her.

“I want a yogurt and banana smoothie, please.” 

Marge hummed.

“Be right back, then.”

Then, Lisa quickly started rambling about what they should do on the weekend, something about the opening of a new club in town, but the raven-haired girl couldn't pay enough attention to get on the conversation. Marge’s soul was making it hard for her to concentrate; she even started rubbing her hands together instinctively as if to distract herself.

She thought _fuck it_ and turned around, her fingerpads tingling.

The old waitress looked as composed as before, preparing their orders with the help of another girl while looking at the tv. But if Grace focused hard enough, she could clearly depict Marge’s aura still shaking and twinkling, perhaps even more so than before. Despite training hard to control it, Grace still sometimes was unintentionally receptive to other people’s feelings –almost like an antenna would, she could perceive them and even go as far as toy with them.

This woman was anxious and worried, and Grace didn't even know how she wasn't shaking physically. 

And Grace, being the sympathetic girl that she was, couldn’t help but take pity on the poor woman and break her own rules.

She extended her hand, scanning before that no one was paying her any attention, and then lowered it slowly. 

Marge’s aura calmed at the same time that her hand motion stopped, it's twinkling disappearing.

Though the lights in the room went crazy for a few seconds.

Grace had to thank whatever God existed, or even the Cosmos, that small tasks such as this one didn’t make her hands or her whole self glow with the usual green-bluish energy.

She still remembered the hilarious comment that once a crewmember of the Serbian Mafia made when he saw her appear out of nowhere, floating in the sky, just minutes before she brought hell upon them. Her, attired in her tight black suit and black domino mask, surrounded by bright green-bluish energy floating in the black sky while defying gravity.

And instead of running away, hide or even shot at her, he had placed his hands on his hips and said out loud impressed: _“What the fuck? She looks like Goku_ _Super Saiyajin!”_

Grace couldn’t hold now the giggle that escaped her lips.

“What the hell?” Lisa’s voice brought her back to the present, and to the diner.

The raven-haired girl turned around and looked at her friends, smiling as if nothing had just happened, while blinking innocently.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

**[ * * * ]**

The pencil ran all over her sketchpad, Grace quietly humming along to Stevie Wonder’s _Superstition_ while drawing the sun setting between the skyscrapers. It looked spectacular from her high-ceiling windows. Grace’s weird obsession –despite her psychologist telling time and time again to her that it wasn’t exactly a bad thing– of drawing beautiful things, or anything she believed was beautiful to her own standards, had made her sit down and try to make it justice.

Despite having to get ready for a night out with Lisa.

“Just fifteen more minutes and you will get ready.” She even set an alarm, just as Dr. Carson had advised her to do, and kept drawing happily.

The oranges, in light and deep tones, together with the goldens of the sun setting almost made her forget about any advice, psychologist, and nightclub. 

And so she kept going, her sketch pencil running through the page.

She had always felt privileged for owning an apartment in Gotham Village, where only the rich dwelled and played, with amazing views and almost non-existent criminality –which was surprising, to say the least, in this damned city–. It was the place where she could find herself being happy or at least, trying to be normal. 

But she missed going out and doing her thing as she did back in Europe.

Grace sighed, chewing on her already-chewed sketch pencil and stopped drawing, hugging her legs to her chest.

When she had moved to Gotham almost a year ago, she had wanted to set aside her “dangerous hobby” and live a normal life.

Like Lisa or Dan did.

After what had happened to her six years ago, she had used her family’s connections and pulled some strings so she could go and study in a European country. Away from Central Park and New York. There in Berlin, Grace had trained with an Israeli private trainer, Isaac, in Krav Maga until achieving a black belt and her expert five patch. Initially, she had started with just wanting to know the basics, a bit for self-defense and that’s it. Until one day, on a Friday night, while she was watching The News, she saw another rapist just get five to ten years in jail and a pat on his shoulder. It had made her so furious that all the windows on her apartment exploded. Moreover, it was in that exact moment, while floating in the middle of her room with her whole being surrounded by the weird bright green-bluish energy and feeling full of rage, that she knew she could try and make a difference, for those who had power were clearly not doing anything.

The next day, after paying the window installer because she had no windows after last night’s debacle, she had asked Isaac about what he would wear, hypothetically of course, if he went to a fucking battle. At first, her trainer had answered that his military uniform but then he had rambled on and on about how a suit of Kevlar thread paired with a good armor would be the best choice if he could afford it. After all, some militia around the world used it.

So Grace, after debating all day whether to do it or not, had called her father that same night and had asked him to find someone who could build it for her.

Matthew Henderson had asked many questions, but she had just told him that in due time she would tell him. Just not now.

He had refused and straight-up hang up on her.

Later that same night, wide awake and after seriously considering to just wing it and buy a superhero costume from a cosplay online shop, her father had miraculously called again and accepted.

She really was his spoiled little girl; and money could buy almost anything in this world.

Grace had flown to New York, the city that she now loathed with a passion, and had her measures taken. The guy who created it made the suit so it fit her like a glove – the downside to that? she had to be careful with what she ate.– It was tight, full-body and with high heeled boots to make her seem taller –after all, she couldn’t go around looking like a gremlin while also fighting rapists and other criminals. A pair of matching black gloves and a domino mask were also made.

After that, before putting the suit, she had not only trained to be the best at Krav Maga but had also learned a few other things just in case– like fighting with knives and how to use a gun properly, yet to this day she still preferred using her powers and Krav Maga–. A year and a half later, she had made her debut on the streets of Berlin.

In those years, she had killed many rapists, abusers, and pedophiles. Delivered a few petty thieves and robbers to the nearest police station like Santa Claus would do on Christmas Eve, even going as far as tying them up and sticking a note on their foreheads explaining what they had done wrong. She really had been a good samaritan. A few encounters here and there with the Serbian Mafia and the Triad too because of their involvement with missing children and women. 

Moreover, she might have done some petty thievery here and there (which she had donated later), just to add a bit of spice to her life, but mainly she had been a good girl.

And fuck, she missed doing those things.

It was fun.

A bit dangerous, yes, but fun.

 _“When you have powers beyond your imagination and are able to do some good, why would you step back and live a normal boring life?”_ , she tried to reason with herself every night.

Yet back then in one of her many Skype sessions with Lisa, her childhood best friend, she had realized how empty and alone she had been feeling.

She had superpowers, at 23 she had her damn degree and had been studying to further her education further, had also a lovely apartment, and yet she felt more lonely than ever.

And loneliness was a dangerous thing.

So, when she had told her good old friend, while omitting a certain hobby she had, of how she was feeling, the blonde had just replied with: _“Come to Gotham! We could live together and the city is fun. Trust me, you will never get bored here.”_

Grace chuckled when remembering that. In the next twenty-four hours, she had packed her things, had said goodbye to her colleagues from University, and then hopped on a plane.

She had to give it to Lisa, Gotham city was everything but boring.

Gotham honored its name with its gloomy atmosphere, high buildings and horrible weather. The city probably was Tim Burton’s wet dream. You could find gargoyles in many of the buildings façades, many nights the city was covered in a thick fog, it had an Asylum for the worst of the worst with a high rate of escapees, an absurdly high rate in criminality and many bat-related vigilantes coming out at night to play.

Oh, and the many deranged individuals that played around Gotham like it was a child's’ dream playground. 

Lisa had filled her in during those six years on her weekly Skype sessions about those individuals and so she knew most of them before she had placed a foot on the city. Gotham City had the Joker, currently-for-who-knows-how-long-because-he-always-escapes locked in Arkham Asylum, a psychopathic clown who had a weird obsession and ongoing feud with Batman; Two-Face, a half-burned crime lord obsessed with duality and the number two; the Penguin, another crime lord who looked like his namesakes and wore a monocle and umbrella; Poison Ivy, a stunning woman (Lisa said so, her gayness clearly showing here) who was an eco-terrorist and could control nature; and the list could go on and on for ages to no end.

She had no interest in them, despite how much they made living in Gotham City a surviving experience.

So, her current life in Gotham was never dull or boring. She was working on a renowned and bohemian art gallery in the city, had an amazing apartment –she had tried living with Lisa but they had almost ended up fistfighting with each other over a jar of marmalade–, could meet her friends every day if she wanted, and was continuing her studies at the local University online.

But she would be lying if she said she didn't miss going out and doing her thing.

Even drawing and painting, the thing that had always distracted her from suiting up and going out, was starting to not divert her attention as it normally would.

Her alarm started going off.

“I really don’t want to go out.” she sighed loudly as if someone would pat her on the shoulder and tell her not to go. “I hate partying and crowded places.”

Grace chewed her already-very-chewed sketch pencil while walking all the way to her wardrobe.

She had to get ready or Lisa would probably scream her ear off for making her wait. Though she was always late.

**[ * * * ]**

Grace, setting aside her ex-extracurricular activities, had always hated going out and now she remembered clearly why she did.

The night would always begin as good as it could possibly be. Both her and Lisa looking bomb would march to a nightclub, which would be buzzing with activity and music, then they would have a few drinks and perhaps even dance a bit if the music was any good. Moreover, Lisa would start flirting with any of the cute waitresses and end up, don’t ask her how, with their tongue almost reaching her throat.

Lisa visibly looked like a terrible kisser, she always reminded Grace of a lifeguard doing mouth-to-mouth, and so she never understood why would the women always end up going God-knows-where to probably have a quick fuck.

And so then she would end up all alone, surrounded by sweaty bodies while going deaf by the loud music, and nursing a drink.

Tonight was no different from the usual, but she was tired. Her head hurt from overthinking too much all day long, she felt tired after working all morning and going out in the evening with her friend, and the high heels she wore now were killing her.

Grace decided it was time to call it a day and head back home.

She quickly sent a message to Lisa, who was probably very busy with the cute blonde-haired waitress, and sighed loudly.

> **_Hey girl, hope you are having fun with the blonde girl wherever you are._ **
> 
> **_As you left me alone, as usual (don’t worry, i’m used to it lmao) I have decided to stop being a pathetic human being and go home._ **
> 
> **_Call me tomorrow, but don’t even think of giving me any details. I don’t care about your sexual life._ **
> 
> **_Bye, bitch. xx_ **
> 
> **_PD: text me when you GO home and when you GET home, it isn’t safe out there._**

The raven-haired sighed again and stood up from her barstool.

She had to hit the bathroom before calling her uber though.

_Too many drinks._

**[* * *]**

**_♡_ ** **_Here, in this fancy shithole, Lucy Ross lost her virginity_ ** **_♡_ **

Grace sniggered, the situation completely reminding her of some of the type of things she had seen written back then on her high school’s cubicles’ walls.

She sighed happily while finally peeing.

Suddenly, the screams of a high pitched voice and the sound of glass shattering continually almost made her fall off the toilet.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

She grabbed some toilet paper and when she was finished cleaning herself, she pulled her panties up as quickly as possible. Grace held her breathing. It was one person, a female by the sound of the colorful series of profanities she was screaming, and Grace didn't need to check her aura to know how angry she was.

Though just in case, she took a peek.

She focused on her own aura, then changed her focus towards the other one in the bathroom, even going as far as closing her eyes to discern it much better –without stepping out and risking getting hurt.

It was shining as bright as the sun, it reminded her of the Simpsons cartoon of the radioactive bar, but trembling and roaring with despair and sadness. The fact that the poor female wasn't angry surprised her.

Grace took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever she was going to face after stepping out of the enclosed and safe space where she was. When she opened the door, almost scared of what she might see after reading the aura, the sight of a blonde woman headbutting the bathroom’s big mirror wasn't at all what she had expected.

The girl didn't even pay her any attention, clearly busy trying to crack her skull open, and so she kept doing it, even adding some punches to the mix.

Grace couldn’t let her hurt herself this way.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She had to stop her before she killed herself, or gave herself a concussion if she was lucky enough. “Stop! Stop!”

Grace grabbed the blonde by the waist, as if trying to separate her from the mirror, and pulled her against herself. 

Next thing she knew, the blonde answered her with a chokehold and then sent her flying over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Her body collapsed against the same toilet she had been peeing seconds ago, tearing the door from its fringes in the process. However, because her pain tolerance was higher than normal, Grace just grunted and answered right back.

The raven-haired extended her hand, a bright green-bluish glow around it, and made a motion towards the sinks. Now the blonde girl was the one being sent flying but this time towards the mirror she had been shattering just before and the sinks.

Grace stood up, her back killing her even more than usual, and approached the blonde sitting with her back against the shattered mirror.

Weirdly enough, the girl instead of being knocked out was looking at her as if she was Jesus Incarnated. There was wonder all over her face.

“You are so paying for the damages.” the raven-haired quickly pointed out but then stopped herself.

She couldn’t help but examine her for serious injuries. After all, she had been head-butting the mirror three seconds ago and then sent flying towards it –on self-defense though–. But despite all the blood that was running down her forehead, she seemed more than fine. Happy even, just gazing at her.

“What the hell?” she couldn’t help but voice her thoughts out loud.

The raven-haired almost fell backward when the girl —who was clearly not right in the head— jumped to hug her tightly, mumbling “yes” nonstop while jumping up and down like an excited child.

The blonde girl pulled back, black eyeshadow and glitter smeared around her big blue eyes, and her black-painted lips smiling almost manically.

“You! You!”

Grace blinked several times, completely lost for words. Then she sighed, trying to get back to the present time.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asked her, completely serious.

“No, I’m Harley Quinn and you...” the blonde pointed at her, smiling cheekily. “You are my new best friend.”

The raven-haired girl could still hear Lisa, in one of their many Skype sessions, telling her snippets of information here and there about Harley Quinn.

_“She is definitely insane. For a long time, she was the partner in crime of Joker and dated that nutter. Girl… the things she has done are something else. Anyways, then she left him and joined a girl band… No, kidding. But Catwoman, Poison Ivy and her did start hanging out and creating some mayhem.”_

Again, Grace didn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go have a drink!” Harley linked one of her pale arms with hers, then started dragging her out of the bathroom. 

**[* * *]**

They both sat on a VIP booth with an exceptional view of the dance floor and enough privacy to plot the murder of the current President. The loud music was now faint and low around them, probably because the walls of the VIP rooms were sort of soundproof or something. At the glass low table, there was a big metal ice bucket with two expensive-looking champagne bottles and two glass flutes nearby.

Harley was sitting on the other side of the table, her maniacal smile still on and with her legs crossed, while Grace sat on the other side in the U velvety couch.

She scanned her, now fully seeing her for who she was.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, which was dyed in blue and pink, lipstick smeared from probably drinking too much and her clothes were as eccentric-looking as the wearer was. She was wearing what seemed like a dog collar, a very sparkling sequin red crop top matching with a penguin sequin dark jacket, striped high-waisted dark pants, and red neon high-heeled boots.

“Interesting choice of clothes.” she couldn’t help but say, then nodded to her neck. “Nice collar, too.”

Harley smiled, almost childlike.

“Bud and Lou hate wearing it, so I decided to put their dog tags on one and wear it to honor them. Cool, right?”

Grace raised an eyebrow.

“Bud and Lou are…?

The blonde laughed loudly, a hand going to her flat stomach.

“My hyenas, silly!”

Then got serious –so suddenly that Grace almost jumped from such a radical change of demeanor– and picked up one of the champagne bottles on the ice bucket.

“Sounds cool.” 

It was all she could say.

But Harley didn’t pay her any attention, furiously shaking the bottle up and down until it popped loudly. She laughed as if fascinated by it, then poured some on both flutes and gave her one.

“Anyways!” she cried out loudly, then sipped a bit of the champagne while staring at her, doe-eyed. “I kinda need your help.”

Grace took a sip too.

“My help?” The raven-haired got comfortable on the couch, a bit curious about the whole thing. After all, it wasn’t every day you had a conversation with the infamous Harley Quinn. “You have just met me, Quinn.”

Harley opened her mouth – almost fish-like–, but Grace pointed a finger, interrupting her.

“Also, you are paying for the damn damages of the bathroom!”

The blonde enthusiastically nodded, even going as far as to salute her military-style, all while smiling cutely.

Grace couldn’t help but smile back.

_Harley Quinn is a very cute girl._

“So, will ya help me?”

She blinked a few times.

“With what?”

“Well, you see… it’s a long story.” Harley said, dragging the _long_ while saying it. Then, she took another loud sip of her flute. “When Mista J an’ I broke up for the hundred’ time, I decided it was time to emancipate myself! I started hanging out more with my besties, adopted many cute pets, hooked up with hot-billionaire Bruce Wayne once an’ even changed ma’ hair color.”

Grace raised a thick brow, surprise all over her face.

“You hooked up with Bruce Wayne? _The_ Bruce Wayne?”

Harley shook her left hand nonchalantly.

“Just kissed an’ groped his ass. Very tight and firm!”

Grace laughed at that and Harley joined her.

“Anyways, anyways. My friend Selina had just recently gotten a heart surgery an’ Red an’ I were helping her out on some things, then decided to live together. We had so much fun together! So, so, so much! We ran Gotham, the boys couldn’t keep up! And… Pammy an’ I… we fell in love.”

The blonde sighed happily, blowing raspberries into her glass flute.

“Pammy is Poison Ivy, right?”

Harley nodded with a happy smile, but her face quickly contorted in one full of hatred and disgust.

“But Batnight ruined everything!”

The dark-haired girl scratched her temple, trying to remember the names of all the vigilantes of Gotham City, but she couldn’t remember anyone called _Batnight_.

“I don’t… I don’t recall any Batnight?” Grace chewed her bottom lip, completely lost. “Is he new in town or…?

Harley shook her head effusively, a clear _no,_ while moving closer so her butt was now placed on the verge of the couch.

“He has two sticks!” the blonde pointed out as if to help her distinguish who the vigilante was.

Grace took that into consideration.

“Batnight… Batnight… Bat… Night… Night?.” Grace mumbled out loud while Harley nodded along to what she was saying. “Nightwing!”

“That’s what I said!”

Grace opened her mouth to correct her, then closed it. She thought Nightwing now patrolled on Blüdhaven instead of Gotham City and so, she opened her mouth again to ask about it but quickly decided on not doing it, Harley’s tale was already making her head hurt a bit. There was no need to enlarge the story even more.

“Red was helping her plants, ya’ know. Doing some good for nature, an’ the Batnight took her down!” Harley placed her flute on the table with ferocity, making it shatter. Nevertheless, she was still looking at her with shiny eyes. “Now, Red is at GCPD Lockup, an’ in a week will be taken to the Asylum! Unjustly!”

The blonde started to sob desperately, putting her hands to her face so it was hidden from her, and Grace sighed silently at such dramatics. Yet, she stood up and approached her, checking her aura.

It was shinning and twinkling furiously, Grace could feel the sadness and sorrow the woman was feeling emanating from the aura.

She was not lying.

Grace sat beside her and patted her back slowly.

With a kind smile, she asked her: “And because of what I did in the bathroom, you want me to help you?”

Grace was really an empathic girl, she couldn’t help it.

Harley dropped her hands to her lap and looked at her, her eyeshadow and glittery mascara even more messed up than before. Then, almost shyly, nodded.

“I… I have…. “ the woman hiccuped while her pale fist started rubbing her left eye. “I have a plan. It is good! But I need me some explosives to cause a distraction, so I can bail out my Pammy. Normally I would do it myself, I was going to… ‘til I saw ya’ earlier in the bathroom!”

The raven-haired girl laughed softly, then cheekily pinched Harley’s right cheek.

“Alright. Girl, I do have superpowers.” Harley nods along to that. “And I can make things go _Boom,_ but where the heck do I get explosives, huh?”

The blonde grabbed Grace’s hands with her bleached ones, turned on the coach to sit cross-legged on it and squeezed her hands tightly. She was smiling a bit more now which made Grace a bit happy.

She liked seeing people smile.

“Blubberpot probably has some, but we ain’t good friends, ya’ know? So he won’t give it to me.”

“Blubber… pot?”

Harley nodded.

“Penguin! Small with a pointy nose? Like a toucan?” she made a gesture of a nose going large until touching her lap with her hand.

Grace realized she meant Cobblepot, Oswald Cobblepot; and nodded.

“But I earlier heard some birds talking about Black Mask, it seems he had a new shipment of LX-14, CL-20 an’ TNT to one of his warehouses here in Gotham,” Harley whispered conspiratorially, puckering her mouth like a duck, though they were alone in the VIP area.

The dark-haired hummed, running Harley’s plan through her mind.

“And you want me to smuggle them up, right?”

Harley nodded, then subsequently added: “Selina is busy with don’t-fucking-know-what and I would ask Zatanna but I heard she was busy! So, please?”

Grace sighed.

“You could go there, make the explosives disappear an’ make them appear in my house!”

“Girl, that’s not how my powers work. To open a portal and then move them to your house, I would need to first have set a foot on the place. I can’t just teleport myself to somewhere I haven’t been to before.” Grace took her hands off Harley’s hold and crossed her arms while explaining this to the blonde girl. “Also, do you even know which warehouse it is? Last I heard from Black Mask, he is a powerful man so he probably has many.”

Harley jumped from her seat and started searching through her pants pockets, nodding to what Grace said while taking out whatever she found inside and placing it on the small table. A lipstick, some keys with a key-chain of a circus hammer, a small pocket-knife, another pocket-knife but with a blue handle, some sort of ring –which curiously looked like the pin of a hand grenade, but Grace turned a blind eye on that –, and finally a crumpled piece of paper.

The blonde gave it to her, smiling happily.

“I wrote it down, ‘cause I’m a smart girl. I got a Ph.D., ya’ know?”

Grace read the direction written in messy handwriting and chuckled at the smiley face doodled underneath it.

“I will help you out on one condition.” She pointed a finger to the blonde’s face. “No killing any policemen. Got it?”

Harley nodded enthusiastically.

“Then I will help you.”

The blonde let a loud scream and threw herself to Grace’s arms, ecstatically jumping up and down as she did an hour ago on the nightclub’s bathroom. She was thanking her again and again, tears running down her face and falling to Grace’s naked arms. The dark-haired girl patted her in the back, chuckling lightly, and then hugged her back.

A few seconds later, but still as happy and ecstatic as before, Harley pulled back and placed each of her hands on Grace’s cheeks.

“Let’s go have a sleepover at mines!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, guys!
> 
> I decided to post the prologue and the first chapter together because it is much better to get into the story.
> 
> First of all, I want to apologize if there are any spelling mistakes or any grammatical errors. I tried to be as picky and careful as possible, but at the end of the day, English is not my native tongue and so it is possible I haven't even seen them.
> 
> Now onto the chapter: Harley Quinn is one of my fav villains (or anti-hero if you have read the new comics bc it seems the writers are going for that lmao) but it took me days to write her. In the end, I hope I got her voice, and if not, I'm truly sorry. I tried.
> 
> This story takes place in the pre-rebirth era, like I'm sorry if you like it but DC completely fucked up while doing their reboot. (Though not gonna lie, there are some good things in it which I will use in this story)
> 
> So, what do you think about the prologue and the first chapter? And about Grace? You will see more of her powers on the following chapters, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Also, what do you think will happen in the next chapter(s)?
> 
> All I will say is that someone will finally make their appearance and it is *chefs kiss*.
> 
> See you on the next one and much love. xx


	3. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another new chapter.
> 
> Unfortunately, I haven't gotten any comments yet but I did get a few kudos and hits which made me incredibly happy. 
> 
> I hope I got the new characters' speech introduced in this chapter well... like I'm a bit scared that they sound OOC or not credible enough. What do you think?
> 
> Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, I tried my best to correct it all but I might have missed some things.

> _“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”  
>  ― Allen Saunders _

The art gallery this morning was emptier than a banker’s heart, which suits her best if she was being honest, with her current predicament and all. While she didn't work at the art gallery per se, like showing the displayed artworks or buying imported ones, she did work at the back of the gallery in one of the many workshops. Hence, if the place was full or had a chatty crowd, the sound would still get to her and echo all over her workshop.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case today.

Grace was sporting a hangover as big as the Empire State Building. Yesterday night, while checking pictures and maps of Black Mask’s warehouse surroundings, she had chugged down two expensive wine bottles as if they were water.

_You reap what you sow, dumbass._

She didn’t even like wine, like at all.

Her boss Rose had gifted her the two bottles for her birthday very kindly and when yesterday night she had seen the bottles collect dust in her pantry, she had thought she either drunk them now or threw them to the nearest trash can.

A cough, as if someone was throat cleaning, sounded from behind and startled her.

Grace stopped her precise strokes with the cotton swab and threw it into a bowl with many others that had been used before. Then, as she turned around towards the workshop door, she lowered her face mask. Her boss, a beautiful mature woman sporting amazing pink hair up in a tight knot and matching it with multicolored eyeshadow, was standing at the threshold of the door, tapping away something on her phone.

“How is it going with the portrait?”

Her gaze was still on the phone.

“Great. Maximum two or three days outmost for me. Then Caesar can frame it again and we can return it to the owner.”

At that, her boss looked up at her and smiled as kindly as usual. Rose Whitehall was the type of boss many dreamed about having.

And Grace knew she was lucky to have her.

When she had come to Gotham City, the first day Grace had visited _Gotham’s Art Palace_ and fallen completely in love. She had hunted down Rose Whiteman, resume in hand, and insisted for weeks to have her at least be an intern. Rose had taken her resume and scanned it from head to bottom, commenting on how lucky Grace had been to be doing her apprenticeship on Museum Island in Berlin. Then, she had agreed to take her as an intern for two months. If she was as good as it seemed from her resume, she would hire her.

And now here she was, working for Rose and getting paid every month doing what she loved most.

“The owner will be coming in fifteen minutes, Grace.” She said which instantly made Grace gape at that, eyes wide in shock. _Forget what I said, she is a fucking bitch…_ “Don’t worry! He just wants to see how the process of restoration is going.”

_Thank God._

The raven-haired girl now raised one of her brows in question.

“It isn’t common, I know. But we needed to check some details for the Gotham Annual Gala Dinner he is hosting, the one where we will auction some artwork, and he asked if it was possible to see it.” Rose approached her while explaining. Then, she stood beside her looking at the big white worktable where the painting was placed and being restored. “You see, this portrait is very important to him.”

Grace stared at the painted canvas too. 

It was a huge family portrait, clearly of a wealthy family, and the members seemed happy. The tall man had broad-shoulders, probably in his early thirties, and was wearing an expensive-looking suit with matching black tie. His combed dark hair contrasted quite a bit with his vibrant blue eyes. Besides the proud man stood a dashing woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with light brown hair up in a chignon and soft but plump pink lips. She was wearing a green strapless dress, those that you would only wear in formal events or at a Gala. 

From the first moment Grace had seen the painting, the woman had taken her breath away, –despite how dirty and darkened the portrait was–. She still looked positively and extraordinarily beautiful. If Grace had ever seen her walking down the street, she would have immediately taken her small sketchpad out of her handbag and drawn her.

The painter clearly had done a remarkable job depicting them.

Though, as usual with any type of paints, the painting was forever condemned to be restored a few times and treated with preventive care until the owner decided to dispose of it.

Now, Grace followed with her eyesight the strong hand that the man had placed on a petite shoulder, and a smile immediately bloomed on her face. It always happened these past days too. Whenever she looked at the third and last member of the painting she would inevitably smile.

A young boy.

He was probably six or seven years old when the portrait had been done. He looked like the spitting image of the older man, undoubtedly they were father and son, but had the same soft smile as the lovely woman.

“You have done a remarkable job, Grace.”

Her boss patted her on the shoulder, still looking at the couple depicted on the portrait.

“I never asked… do you know them? Personally, I mean… ”

Rose smiled sadly.

“My parents were friends with them, so I do remember meeting the family once or twice at dinner parties… sadly, the couple passed away due to very unfortunate circumstances.”

Grace now smiled saddened, trying not to imagine the sweet young boy crying in front of two stone gravels, utterly alone in the world.

A whistle-like sound, which Grace knew by now that it meant a notification of Rose’s phone, echoed all over the workshop.

“And that must be him.”

Rose started walking towards the door, the sound of her heels following her, but stopped and then looked over her shoulder.

“Keep working on that! _Now_!”

And with a wink, she walked off towards the gallery section, disappearing from her sight.

“Aye, aye, captain!”

Grace pulled up her white face mask and rubbed her gloved hands together, feeling a bit anxious about facing a client for the first time. She had never done so, an art restorer never met her client unless she worked at a museum –which meant the museum was the owner unless the piece was donated, that was another case altogether.

Though in this case... She did know that the restoration of this portrait was a special request to Rose, she said so, but now she understood why. The reason being that Rose knew the family sort of personally.

But, she still never expected to meet the client.

She assessed that she mustn’t look that bad, thanking her morning-self for choosing an outfit that looked classy and professional on her.

Her hair was tied up with a ribbon in a high ponytail, very 60s with how her curls looked, and her floral long skirt complemented her white v-neck blouse. She had even gone as far as putting on some nude lipstick which looked great with her Bridget Bardot inspired eye look.

_I hope my eye make up isn't ruined... Pandas don't look professional and efficient._

She sighed loudly.

_Wait… Why in Hell am I worried about how I look? Pull yourself together!_

She sighed again, which felt weird while wearing a face mask, and now picked up a new cotton swab, proceeding with socking it in a special liquid for cleaning. Before being interrupted, Grace was working on some details on the young boy’s suit and so now she went back to working on that.

If everything went according to her plan, she would finish today with the final touch-ups, and tomorrow she would varnish the whole thing.

Grace focused on the section of the boy’s suit, who was placed at the bottom of the painting, and started cleaning it.

She had taken longer on this work because of how huge it was, plus she had two other more urgent works to do. Nevertheless, she felt confident that between today and tomorrow she could perfectly finish it.

Suddenly, the brunette saw a dark blurb move from the corner of her eye and so she stopped her soft strokes to look beside her.

_A child?_

The young boy was attentively looking at her hand and analyzing its movements.

She raised an eyebrow in question.

The boy turned to look at her, his brows now furrowed and arms crossed, as if pissed that she had stopped doing her job.

They both stared at each other, no words spoken between them for a bit.

“You are surprisingly good for someone so young.” His child-like voice was a heavy contrast to how serious and formal his words were. “Though I assured father that I was more than capable of handling such an easy task.”

Grace blinked a few times, at first paying more attention to the pale scar at the tail of his right eyebrow that stood out against his tan skin, but then she registered what he had just said.

_You little sh..._

“Then your father was being smart, for such a delicate portrait deserves an experienced hand and....” She pulled her face mask down and smiled sweetly, all while looking down at him. “I highly doubt you would be up to that high standard.”

The boy, despite his sun-kissed skin, blushed notoriously. Yet, his brows were still furrowed, even more so now than before.

“I will have you know that… ”

He looked adorable, all angry while clenching his fists at his sides, and she couldn't help but soften at the sight.

Grace quickly interrupted him.

“Though I’m sure that with proper study and practice when you are older you might be able to do it.”

He blinked a few times and then relaxed, though still sporting his adorable blush.

“Damian, don’t harass the lady while she is working.”

A deep and rich voice asked –probably to the boy, Damian was not her name– and both the kid and her turned their heads towards the threshold.

She held a gasp.

Grace had just come across Bruce Wayne himself.

He was standing in the workshop threshold, all calm and poise. The man was surprisingly more handsome in real life than in the newspapers or tv. _He is beautiful, yet I wouldn't paint him ever._ Don't mistake her, he was handsome as hell. He looked extremely fit in his _probably very expensive_ dark suit and as dashing as ever with his chiseled face, straight nose, and smiling soft lips. Yet something was amiss with him.

He didn't look whole.

_Too perfect._

“Father!”

She turned towards the young boy and saw it. The connection. The resemblance. They were identical, though Damian reached her elbow, had a much darker complexion and his eyes were green instead of blue. Everything else was positively the same. As in the same well-kept haircut, long at the top and not too short at the sides –though the boy' was styled more child-friendly–, the same bone structure in the face and the same poise while standing.

Damian was a walking mini-Bruce.

The man walked towards them, still all calm and charm, and she couldn't help but search for any flaws. His blue eyes felt like they were analyzing her _,_ which she quickly attributed to him being a worried father and finding his child alone with a total stranger, and so she tried to relax herself and look non-threatening. After all, they were just talking.

“Bruce Wayne.” he introduced himself, offering his big hand. “Quite young for an art restorer, aren’t you?”

_You just didn't..._

She tried to smile and raised her hand, not shaking his but waving it.

“Grace Henderson, would shake your hand but I’m wearing protective gloves and they need to be as clean as possible,” she said nonchalantly, though she still wanted to grunt out loud for his damn comment. “I’m 25 years old and was personally tasked to do this by Miss Whitehall, though I personally believe she knows what she is doing, you are more than free to go and request another restorer.”

She heard Damian laugh, but she held Bruce's stare, not backing out.

He smiled charmingly, taking a step forward.

“I didn’t mean to… ”

Her smile enlarged.

“Yes, you did.” Grace waved her hand as if dismissing him. “I’m used to it, though. So no offense is taken.”

 _Liar_... _It hurts._

Bruce opened his mouth as if to reply with something, but then his eyes zoomed on the portrait laying on the work table and he instantly closed it.

He stared at it, almost as if zooming out of their little introduction.

“Well... Now I can see why.” He smiled, not a charming one but a soft-looking one, his eyes shining a bit. “It looks just like the first time I saw it.”

Both Damian and her turned towards the portrait on the worktable.

She rubbed her hands, a bit taken aback by the subtle compliment.

“It’s still not finished! I’m giving it the final touches now and tomorrow I will varnish it properly.”

She looked at him, expecting another smart comment, but he was still attentively looking at the canvas.

_Oh my..._

Grace held the gasp in, realizing that the young boy in the portrait was none other than the man standing right beside her. Bruce Wayne, who had lost his parents tragically when he was a young boy, patron of the city and famous playboy. The sight of a young boy crying in front of two gray graves materialized in her mind again.

She gulped.

“Caesar, who is a more experienced curator, will frame it again and will also take care of the handling of the portrait until it is delivered safely to you.” She further explained, her voice shaking a bit. “It will be as good as new, I promise.”

The handsome man now turned to her and smiled kindly, placing a hand on her arm.

“Thank you for your hard work. Rose assured me that it was being handled by the best hands, but still… ” He tilted his head to the side, pressed his lips together for a moment and then gave her a small smile again. “I wanted to be sure.”

She nodded reassuringly. 

“I understand.”

Bruce took his big hand off her arm and placed his other atop Damian’s head.

“And again, I hope Damian wasn’t bothering you too much.”

The young boy huffed, crossing his arms and raising one of his eyebrows at his father’s words, either embarrassed or annoyed.

“Not at all.” She looked at both of them with a smirk on her lips. “He seemed to think the same as you.”

Bruce looked down at Damian, who raised his chin almost proudly while staring at the work table and the portrait.

“Though I believe that was just a misconception…” She lowered a bit her torso towards him and smiled truthfully at the young boy. “Right, Damian?”

Now the dark-haired boy turned to look at her, but just as suddenly as he did that, he blushed. Quickly, probably to hide it away, he turned his stare towards the workplace again while his hands moved towards his back in a very regal pose.

Then he huffed.

_Aw... Adorable._

Bruce looked at him, curiosity now shining in his blue eyes, and then laughed broadly. The man patted and ruffled his son’s hair.

“He is very much interested in the arts, Miss Henderson.”

Grace finally felt herself relax fully in their presence, her body completely viewing Bruce and Damian Wayne as nonthreatening.

_He won't hurt me._

“I assumed as much.” She focused on Damian, who was looking askance at her, and she smiled again. Grace saw a bit of her in him. “Well, if you ever want to talk about art... You will be more than welcome here.”

That seemed to catch his attention. Damian now turned to look at her fully, curiosity shining in his green eyes, and raised his chin as if trying to seem taller.

“I might, though my schedule is usually very full.”

Bruce laughed again while Grace nodded –trying very hard to hold a laugh in– at what Damian just said. He sounded like a tiny old man.

“Perfect. And with that settled… we will leave you to your work, miss Henderson.”

She nodded again, turning towards Bruce.

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

He nodded.

They both leisurely walked towards the exit of the workshop, but while Bruce didn't look back, Damian looked over his shoulder at her.

Her smile was sweet, waving her hand to say goodbye.

“Bye, Damian.”

He answered with a humph, a pretty blush on his cheeks, and disappeared from her sight together with his father.

**[* * *]**

The elevator of her apartment complex, one of the many skyscrapers in Gotham City, was probably slower than a snail. She leant back on the mirror, not wanting to see her reflection, and sighed loudly.

As if the elevator would notice her annoyance and decide to finally be quicker.

Her phone vibrated on her hand.

She unblocked it and laughed softly when she read Harley’s message.

**hey hey hey! tonight is the night, right?**

**I haven’t been this excited since x-mas.**

Grace sent a reply as fast as lightning.

**_Chill, girl. I will be at your house around midnight or so._ **

A bubble with three periods appeared, Harley was writing an answer at the moment.

**_GREAT! I will make margaritas then, to celebrate, ya’ know?_ **

The dark-haired rolled her eyes, a smirk now plastered on her lips, and the doors of her elevator finally opened on her floor. She saw the amazing views, even in the hallway, and her shoulders finally sunk. Tonight Grace just wanted to have a bubble bath and rewatch her favorite movie, _Top Gun_ , while munching a few snacks.

She pouted while opening her apartment’s door.

But suddenly, when thinking about what she would actually do tonight, the butterflies appeared and started flying like crazy in her stomach.

Grace’s mood changed altogether.

She had really missed doing her thing and Harley’s offer was the perfect excuse to finally put on the suit and say goodbye to her boundaries.

_Normal is overrated, girl._

The midnight-haired girl wrote a quick reply while kicking her shoes off.

**_Can’t wait!_ **

**[* * *]**

The night air was ice cold and furious, smacking on her cheeks nonstop and messing with the hair of her ponytail. Her domino mask was only protecting her eye area, so the other parts of her head were now being subjected to the icy harsh wind and she couldn’t do anything about it.

_Perhaps I should invest in a full-face mask or a helmet…_

Nevertheless, despite the cold, she had missed the feeling of her suit on her skin. It was a full-on one, completely black and its texture similar to shiny leather, with a thin Kevlar armor underneath it and a utility belt laying low around her hips (she had her phone, house keys and cereal bar there). Her high heeled boots and pair of gloves were also the same material as her suit. Furthermore, to conceal her identity, not only did she wear her domino mask but she has also grew her hair to waist length, wearing it in a sleek high ponytail.

Her powers could do wonders.

_Thank you, Sir meteorite. The powers you have given me will never cease to amaze me._

She saw a new white van coming, then parking in the big parking lot in front of the warehouse’s main door and four men getting off from it.

Black Mask’s warehouse was at Miller Harbor, surrounded by many other storage facilities and storehouses, which made it quite easy for her. The storage facility in front of the warehouse had four floors, the building a bit higher than the other facilities around it, so she had the perfect view of the warehouse and surroundings.

She was sitting on the rooftop’ railing, childishly kicking her feet up and munching the leftovers of a kebab, while observing a group of five Black Mask’s thugs unload the truck while two others guarded the door.

 _Mr. Ahmed_ , _I would marry you if I didn’t know you already had a wife;_ she couldn’t help but think about the sweet cook. _Your kebabs are the reason why I still believe in humanity._

She finished it and crumpled the aluminum foil, making a ball out of it. Then threw it up in the air and waved her hand at it, making it disappear in thin air as if it had never even existed.

Where? It was better if you didn’t ask her because she didn't know the answer.

“Time to play.”

She jumped off the railing and extended her arms, her body pose resembling a cross up in the air, and let the restraint on her powers go. Grace knew that she wouldn’t break her legs, also very sure that a soft green bluish glow surrounded her, and so she landed gracefully on the ground.

Her high-heeled black boots made its characteristic sound as she calmly walked towards the parking lot and the thugs.

All of these guys were big, as in they probably lived in a gym by the day and worked here by night type of big. They were all dressed in black, wearing bulletproof vests and military boots in said colors, some even wearing black beanies or gloves due to the cold of October. They all wore black masks though.

However, both the four thugs kept unloading big boxes out of the truck’s onto the pavement and the pair at the main door didn’t seem to even register her presence.

“Need a hand, boys?”

All of them looked up towards her, two even pulling out handguns while the others pulled out knives and _where the heck did that guy put a baton off from?_

“Girl! Get the fuck out of here!”

“Where did she come from!?”

“Get lost or we will fuck you up!”

She laughed sweetly.

“Sorry, no can do.”

And she went out to town.

Grace ran towards the one closest to her and jumped, her legs enclosing his thick neck, then pulled him towards the ground. She heard the loud sound his head made when it hit the pavement, but without missing a bit she extended both her arms at her sides, palms up and glowing in her usual color. A wave of power flew through her hands and they flew across the parking lot.

 _Four down, two_ _left_.

“You!” One of the guys at the door yelled, running towards her with a shotgun in his hands.

She waved a hand in a motion of shooing away, and he collided against the main door.

_One left._

Grace calmly walked towards the last one, who was shaking in fear _or perhaps because of how cold it is_ , still guarding the main door despite his buddy being knocked out near it. _His aura is shaking like jello._ When she stood a few feet away from him, now trying not to laugh at the poor man trying to be brave, he directed the muzzle of his shotgun at her.

“Hello.”

“What… what are you!?”

The raven-haired merely smiled in answer and extended her left hand, the man floating at the speed of light towards her hand, like a magnet attracted to a metal piece.

Grace tightened her hold, now estrangling him while he still floated in the air.

“Where are the explosives?”

He croaked, opening his mouth like a fish a few times, emitting broken sounds. 

The raven-haired scrunched her nose, then relaxed her hold on his neck just a bit, easing the flow of air to his lungs so he might talk more easily.

“Where is it?”

He opened and closed his mouth again and again, but no sound came out from his thin and chapped lips.

“If I… If I tell you, he will kill me!” He cried out, his legs kicking the air uselessly, visibly shaking. “I can’t tell you! I can’t! He will kill me! He will kill my family!”

She grunted a bit, tightening her chokehold on his neck.

“Trust me… If you don’t tell me where it is right now, whatever I do to you will be ten times much worse than what he might do.” Her voice now raised an octave, pushing him through a burst of power to the hard metal doors. Next, she pushed him with each following word for emphasis.“So tell me. Now.”

His mouth kept opening like a fish but still, no sound came out of it.

“I see… ” she said, sighing dramatically.

_Time to put on a good show._

She closed her eyes and tried to center her powers on only her vision, but her power was too unstable and took much concentration than that. So she relaxed, took a bit of time, and then the brightness of the glow that surrounded her whole body reached sun-like-blaze levels. _There._ Next, while she bit her lips trying to focus much more, she visualized what she wanted to achieve. A few seconds passed and when she finally opened them, she had mastered the brightness and her eyes were now the only thing shinning.

As in shinning as bright as the sun.

But there it was, also that side of her powers that was too untameable or unstable to fully be mastered by her. Grace felt her hair float, almost like there was no gravity surrounding her, which she hadn't meant to do.

Nevertheless, it probably helped her look scary and powerful. So, she tightened her choke on his neck.

“One last chance… ” her voice sounded modified, not human at all, which she hadn't meant to do either. 

She saw him open his eyes –if it was even possible– much more open than before, sort of like a cartoon character would do. Grace now knew that she looked terrifying with her domino mask with glowing eyes, hair floating around, and creepy voice.

“No! No! No!” he begged in a yell, still kicking his feet up, completely horrified. “Wait! Wait! Wait, please! I will tell… I will tell you!”

She relaxed a bit her hold.

“They are stored inside three wood boxes... and they have written _fragile_ in red capital letters all over them.” he croaked, and Grace felt every word he said through the palm of her hand. “They are the only ones marked with those words, to differentiate them!”

She nodded, registering the information.

“Thank you.”

And she smacked his head hard against the metallic door.

The raven-haired checked the auras of all the thugs scattered around her, to see if they were still unconscious or if there were more out there that she hadn't seen, but what she found confused her. There were seven more scattered inside and around the warehouse, but weirdly enough they felt like they were barely there.

_Oh, oh. Not good._

This reminded her of the first time she killed someone. When she had her first run with the Serbian Mafia, one of the caporegimes had infuriated her so much that she had just killed him right then and there, on the spot. Despite instantly becoming a target for them. And the feeling… She had felt how the soldier’s aura slowly evaporated into nothingness. Similar to how the light of a bulb diminishes until it completely burns out.

Those auras felt like that.

However, they could probably be saved if she called an ambulance or the police.

_What do I do? Should I...?_

She sighed, still debating about it, and while opening the door, searched for more auras. Trying to find either a perpetrator or another human being who would help them. However, there weren’t any on the warehouse or its premises.

_Weird._

Grace scrunchef her nose, overthinking for a few seconds until the thought of them working for Black Mask and probably having done bad things for him made her decide to just leave their fate to luck.

_Screw it._

The raven-haired girl let her powers surround her, no longer focusing on her eyes, and started walking inside confidently.

_Whatever is inside, it should be scared of me._

The first thing she noticed was how the lights were out, which she quickly remedied with a snap of her fingers, then how the whole warehouse was full of thousands of wooden boxes scattered around, though the pillars here and there obstructed her view a bit. The place reminded her of a hangar but without the airplanes and fighter planes.

She groaned, cursing herself for not asking where exactly were the boxes placed, and so she started walking around looking for something red.

_No red._

_A Subway's meal leftovers._

_No red._

_Is that a used condom? Ew. Also, no red._

_No red._

_No red._

A few minutes later, she ended up at the center of the warehouse. The three boxes were stacked up in pairs of two, so the odd one was pilled up with another one without a mark on it. She kneeled in front of the regular box, now debating whether to take it with her too or to just do some heavy lifting and stack the odd one with the others, until she felt it.

So bright and warm.

_Oh my…_

Grace even gasped loudly.

An aura, five feet behind her, burning as bright and fiery as the blazing sun.

_It could burn me alive if an aura was even tangible._

She had probably been too immersed in searching for the correct boxes that she hadn’t realized the moment the person had stepped in. Moreover, before going inside, she had checked if there was anyone else around and had come across no one on the premises. So, that person had probably entered while she was looking for her special cargo.

 _This is B_ _lack Mask's fault! Screw him for having his warehouse so disorganized!_ _Didn't his mother ever teach him of keeping his things tidy?!_

Grace tried to center herself, not wanting to appear scared or nervous. Then, standing up calmly from her kneeling position, she turned around and commented nonchalantly: “It is considered rude to stare at someone and not greet them.”

_Red._

That was what she first saw.

A man wearing a red helmet, no facial expression on it, with white slits in the form of eyes. He was standing five feet away from her, leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, his arms crossed against his ample chest, and with his military tactical boots also crossed at the ankles.

_Red?_

She scanned him while thinking of Gotham's vigilantes and criminals. 

_Red..._

_Red..._

_Red Robin? No, he isn't wearing that weird cape Lisa mentioned._

“Red Hood, I presume?” 

He shrugged all calm but fiery aura.

“In the flesh.”

His voice low and tinted with humor.

Red Hood looked like a brute, as in a big and quite muscular guy. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and underneath it, some sort of black-grey armored undershirt with a red bat emblem in the middle of the pectoral area. His black-grey cargo pants were the same color as his undershirt, almost making it look like it was a whole bodysuit, plus also carrying two tactical holsters united in a utility black belt.

_Damn, someone doesn’t skip leg day. Those are some big thighs._

His tighs were probably bigger than her head, though she tried not to stare too much.

She probably failed, but whatever.

“Thought you didn’t go around killing people anymore?” she tried to buy time, remembering what Lisa had told her about the vigilante.

She bobbed her head to the left, assessing him while remembering Lisa's words.

_Red Hood. Gun guy. Former Crime Lord, he had painted Gotham City red until he had stopped killing and started using the same methods as Batman & Co. Still, too ruthless for my liking. You say his name and everyone shits their pants. A vigilante, but not one you want to meet, unlike Nightwing or Batgirl. From what I heard from one of the police guys at the clinic, he is good in a fight, quite at par with Batman. _

He stood up from his position, and while he was looking calm and confident, she could clearly see the signs of him being ready for whatever she was about to do.

“Rough night. Bat can suck it.” his voice was low and clearly electronically modified. Then, he pointed at her with his black-gloved hand, like a child. “Now, time for you to introdu… ”

She held her glowing left hand up, interrupting him midsentence.

Then, she ran towards him.

“And you talk about manners…” his annoying voice chastised her, which somehow irked her.

Grace knew she probably wouldn't win against him like this, but he clearly had a big ego and his confidence could be used against him.

_Men and their egos._

He effortlessly dodged her first punch, which she knew he would, and she threw another one towards his face. Red Hood merely captured her fist in his gloved hand, a tight hold that almost felt like he would break all her bones, and clucked humorously.

“You suck at fighting, so stick to magic.”

She wanted to roll her eyes so badly.

They were pretty close, only a feet apart, and despite her high-heeled boots she still had to look up to see his masked face. It irked her even more, her height was something that had always bothered her.

“Oh… As you wish.”

She smiled prettily while shrugging her shoulders.

One of his feet stepped back, his instinct probably screaming at him to pull back and so he tried to pull away, letting go of her fist, but it was already too late.

_Got you._

Grace opened her fist up and he started floating two feet up in the air, his jacket opening a bit with how fast she had elevated him. He had a green bluish glow around him, which was actually what was keeping him up, and she started to smack the air.

His face turned left and right, clearly feeling her slaps, completely powerless to her ministrations.

“It’s fun, right?” she laughed, though she felt no joy or pleasure from what she was doing. “You should have shot me right when you saw me, Red.”

He grunted but gave no further reaction.

She stopped slapping the air and his face stopped moving, though still motionless and floating in the air. She supposed he was looking at her, after all his red helmet is facing her.

“I heard so much about you.” She stared at those white slits, smiling sweetly at the man. “From what I heard, you painted Gotham City red for a few months. So many fear you… If only they saw you now. Completely powerless.”

 _The explosives, girl. Focus!_ she tried to focus on her “mission” and stopped mocking him. _Right, the explosives._

The raven-haired girl kept her hand up, keeping him afloat, and turned to the side. She was still able to see him, but now could also clearly see the wooden boxes.

“Who are you?” he asked, humor no longer in his voice. He didn’t seem scared, which surprised her a bit. “What do you want with Black Mask? What are you doing in Gotham?”

“None of your business, Little Red Riding Hood.” she mocked him, scrunching her nose in annoyance. “Now shut it or I will gag you.”

She raised her other hand and with her open palm, drew an O near where the boxes were located, closing her eyes and furrowing her brows for further concentration. Grace pictured Harley’s house, not the inside of it, but the front door. _Just the front door._ She heard the wind howling and when she opened her eyes again, inside the perimeter of the O there was the view of Harley’s door.

Grace knew she had a few precious seconds before the portal closed –multitasking was never her forte– and so she quickly directed her palm’s towards the boxes, imagining them floating as if there was no gravity.

“His explosives?” Red Hood grumbled in a low whisper, probably a thought said out loud.

Suddenly, a surge of power in her characteristic color surrounded them and the boxes started floating as Red Hood currently was. Then, they started dancing through the air towards the portal until crossing it and gently settling in the doorstep.

_Mission Accomplished._

She snapped her fingers and the portal closed, just as if she had just turned the TV off with a remote.

_Now, let's get out of here._

Grace turned around and lowered her other hand. Red Hood slowly started lowering towards the ground, still surrounded by her power and fully in her control.

The raven-haired girl pursed her lips and then smiled, as if a great idea had just came to her.

“Now, would you please sit down like a good boy and let me leave unharmed?” she asked in a pleading mocking tone.

She could imagine him smirking under the helmet while huffing a laugh, despite being at her mercy, and she could feel danger oozing from him.

The man was clearly not scared of her.

And very confident in himself.

“No.” his raspy and modified voice almost shocked her.

She walked towards him with a pout on her lips, trying to appear confident when she actually wasn’t feeling like that at all, and looked up at him. Grace hoped she looked sort of attractive, or at least cute enough to not make him kill her if she slipped and let him go.

“Pity.” she exaggerated her pout, totally mocking him. “I would have even invited you to a drink or something.”

_Wait... why do I sound flirty?_

He lowered his head a bit, which to say the least surprised her. He shouldn't be able to move at all, but he had just moved his head, and so she tried to not freak out in front of him. To keep calm and seem confident.

“Let me go.”

She laughed as if that comment was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

“As if I’m that stupid.” she patted his chest with her left hand, leaning into him. “You will turn me into a colander. So, no. Your guns stay where they are. Thank you.”

He let out a laugh that rumbled through his chest, clearly amused. Grace could even feel it through her gloves and his armored under-shirt, and she tried not to laugh too.

“I could go slow… be gentle.”

She answers with a moan as if the mere idea excited her, _and did he just take a small step forward?_

_He is starting to break through, shit. You should have mind-controlled him, idiot!_

“As tempting as that sounds, I will have to pass on that… You see,” She patted his chest for emphasis one last time, nodding along to what she herself just said. Then, she shrugged her shoulders.“I’m an old-fashioned girl, so you would have to take me to dinner first. Perhaps sweep me off my feet?”

The raven-haired girl turned around and when she was a few feet away, just where the wooden boxes were sitting before, she opened the portal again to Harley’s house. She crossed through it, her footsteps slow but surely, until she no longer was standing inside Black Mask's warehouse but in Harley's doorstep with the four boxes.

Grace proceeded to raise her own left hand, as if throwing something over her shoulder, and she didn't have to turn around to know that the walls closed on the Red Hood.

Yet, she still turned around to see. She didn't know why, but she viewed as the whole building crumbled in, no sight of Red Hood, who was probably dead or buried underneath all the rubble.

She didn't feel good.

But she knew he wouldn't let her go, not before probably torturing her or giving her up to Batman or even to the police.

“Goodbye, Red.”


	4. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, there!
> 
> I'm a day early but I finally got two new comments on this story: one here on AO3 and another in Tumblr, so I got excited and decided to upload it a bit earlier.
> 
> This chapter sets in motion many things for this story. Also, despite perhaps not being as exciting or long as the others, it is key to the development of the story.
> 
> As usual, I apologize if there are any grammatical mistakes. I corrected it myself but I'm no English native.
> 
> Please, could you leave a comment or kudos? It really helps a lot! 
> 
> Much love xx

> _“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”_
> 
> ― Laurell K. Hamilton, _Mistral's Kiss_

“She hasn’t called me yet… why hasn’t she called me yet? This never happens to me!”

Lisa threw her hands to her head and messed the blonde tresses even more than they were, pacing back and forth in Grace’s open concept kitchen and living room, her posture completely straight.

“Oi, chill!” the raven-haired tried not to laugh, biting her bottom lip “People have jobs and lives, so it’s most likely she is busy!”

The blond turned to look at Grace, who was sitting comfortably on her big comfy sofa doodling in one of her many sketchpads and crossed her arms under her chest.

“I also have a life, you dumbass. But not even a text? C'mon!”

Grace rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s been a week… perhaps you are getting sloppy in the flirting department?” She tried not to laugh at Lisa’s indignant face and quickly picked up a pillow seconds before the blonde started hitting her. “Kidding! Just kidding!”

Her friend kept hitting her, not as if to hurt her but as in a playful manner.

“I will have you know that I’m the fucking best at flirting… and other things.”

Grace looked over the rim of her pillow and made a face as if throwing up.

“Dis-gus-ting” the raven-haired accentuated each syllable, then raised a hand to stop her best friend from starting hitting her again. “No, but for real. Who cares? It’s her loss… you are amazing and the day you date someone, that idiot will be a lucky girl.”

Lisa moved her head to the side and her shoulders dropped as if exhausted. Then, she bit her bottom lip while tapping her foot for a few seconds.

At last, she nodded and sat next to her on the sofa. The blonde leaned her head on her best friend’s shoulder. Grace smiled softly and leaned her head on her friend’s crown.

“After hooking up, she told me to wait until her shift was over… then we went to eat tacos.” Lisa’s voice sounded soft and dreamy, not loud and humorous as usual; after a long week, finally telling the ink-haired girl what had happened that night. “We were there for three hours, talking and laughing, and we even closed the fucking place… And it wasn’t a simple hook-up on a nightclub, there was a connection there. I swear.”

The raven-haired smiled while imagining the scene.

“If she saw you eating tacos and didn’t leave your ass there immediately, she is clearly interested.”

Lisa raised her head a bit and looked up at her while Grace looked down, a mocking smile on her plump lips. They held each other stared for a bit, now the raven-haired was biting her lower lip while the blonde pressed her lips together.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One!_

They both burst out laughing, even both kept giggling after a few minutes passed and their laughter had died out.

“Shit, that's true.”

She nodded, giggling about how a messy-eater her friend was and pictured it in her mind.

Grace picked the discarded sketchpad and pencil from beside her on the sofa, not the side where Lisa was sitting, and turned a page over.

She quickly drew Lisa’s face, starting with her high cheekbones tinted with hundred freckles and then her petite cute nose, following with her soft-looking jawline. In the drawing, her best friend's big blue eyes were filled with wonder, staring at something they –the viewer of said drawing or the drawer– couldn’t see, while her thin lips were curled in a lovely smile. Her blonde head, framed with soft long waves, was resting on her hands on the table and Grace added a napkin holder near.

“Should I draw guacamole smeared all over your chin?” Lisa giggled at that, so the raven-haired quickly drew it. “Perhaps a bottle of _Tears of Llorona No. 3 Extra Añejo_ Tequila besides you?”

“Nah… that thing is 233 bucks.”

Grace huffed, then asked out loud: “Who pays 233 bucks for a bottle of Tequila?”

_“Dad does, I saw him drink a glass of that thing many times while watching tv or reading.”_

“Your dad.”

Both laughed while Grace also shook her head, her father’s expensive tastes never ceasing to amaze her.

“But not me, girl.” Her friend answered back, which made both of them laugh again. “Desperados is more on my budget… Though sometimes I spend a bit more on a Jose Cuervo one if I feel like treating myself.”

Grace smiled sadly.

Two months after her kidnapping and before she went to Berlin, they both had graduated from their prestigious and expensive private high school. The blonde had decided it was time to come out to her parents and Grace had completely supported her, thinking that Adam and Mary would be open and accept her daughter.

She had been seriously mistaken.

The Addington’s had completely lost it and kicked Lisa out of their home. Thankfully, Lisa’s aunt Marissa had welcomed her in her own home and called Grace to tell her what had gone down.

Three days later, Lisa had been notified that she had been written out of her parents’ will and she wouldn’t be able to get a single penny from the family’s fortune. Plus, to add salt to the wound, she should never call her parents or even step a foot on her old home because they didn't want to know anything about her.

The raven-haired remembered how heartbroken her best friend had been, crying loudly on one of the beds of her aunt’s many guest rooms, while Marissa explained what the family lawyer had informed her.

She hadn’t been sad about the money but her parents’ hatred and lack of love for her.

Despite all of that, Marissa had sat down at the rim of the bed and had helped Lisa sit down. When she had calmed down –Grace remembered running to the kitchen for a glass of water and some chocolate–, her aunt had announced that she wasn’t going anywhere. Marissa had unofficially adopted Lisa, using her own wealth to help and support her niece.

Yet Lisa didn’t like asking for much, too independent, and still licking her own wounds.

“Next week, I will buy a few bottles of the expensive ones and we will drink them all while watching _RuPaul Drag Race: All-Stars,_ how does that sound?”

The raven-haired heard her friend's harsh breath as if holding her cries.

“Fucking amazing, Gracie.”

She smiled, understanding what her friend was truly saying underneath her coarse language, and patted her on the hand.

_“Thanks.”_

**[ * * * ]**

  
  


It had been a few hours and they both had just finished eating Chinese Takeaway, sitting in the same position as before but with a big and fluffy warm blanket wrapped around them. Grace was drawing again while they both watch the new season of _Peaky Blinders_ on the big living room TV.

Grace was drawing from memory one of her favorite paintings of Empress Sisi, with her beautiful half-braided hairstyle decorated with silver flowers, and lovely white wedding gown. Don’t mistake her, she preferred others over this painting of Sisi, but someway somehow she had memorized only this one.

_“So beautiful, poor heartbroken Sisi.”_

“I’m a proud lesbian, okay?” her friend said, her blonde head moving on Grace’s shoulder as if she spoke with her whole self and not only with her mouth. Grace stopped her pencil moving. “But I totally understand why so many people want to be dicked down by Tommy Shelby.”

She laughed at that.

“Yeah, he is hot…”

Suddenly, Lisa raised her head from her friend’s shoulder and mimicked her friend’s posture, sitting cross-legged and reclining her back against the sofa. Then, the blonde started arranging the blanket better around her.

“But?” she asked, still busy arranging the big blanket.

“I don’t know... ” Grace sighed loudly and looked at her friend, shrugging her shoulders. “He is handsome, in an _i-would-draw-him-time-and-time-again_ way, but I never thought, and excuse my vocabulary, _oh I would totally such his dick.”_

Lisa now leaned her head back, now looking at her best friend with a sad smile, the TV series completely forgotten or unimportant to them.

“How long has it been since you dated someone?” her voice sounded rueful, though the blonde knew the answer already. “Or kissed someone?”

Grace shook her head, almost embarrassed about what she was about to confess, and even felt herself blush.

_“Here we go.”_

“Since I was eighteen.” the raven-haired sighed, then rubbed her hands together, forgetting her drawing for the moment. “I can’t still stand someone touching me that way… It’s hard for me to trust any men. I mean, when you start a relationship you expect to have sex or at least close skin to skin proximity… ”

The last words made Lisa laugh loudly.

“Why do you say it so… formal and weird?” 

“Because it’s true!” Grace felt her smile completely gone, her feelings and worries pouring out of her mouth without a stop. “People expect to be able to touch, hug, kiss or do sexual things when in a relationship with someone. But I can’t… I couldn’t possibly stand it. I want to, but I can’t!”

Lisa instantly hugged her tightly, caressing the arm her hand rested on.

“Well, that’s okay. Your mental health is above any fucking relationship.” her friend’s voice was soft and kind, still hugging her tightly. “One day, you might meet someone who will understand and maybe you might try.”

Grace sighed, though weirdly enough something in her stomach started moving.

_“I hope it's a stomachache... better to have diarrhea than a relationship.”_

“Or maybe, you might meet an amazing hot dude with a big dick and only want to kiss him until you die of lack of oxygen… ”

That last sentence made her laugh loudly, Lisa quickly joining her.

“Doubt it, but hey… if it happens, it’s not a bad way of dying.”

Both laughed again.

“Now, seriously. Have you talked to anyone about it?” her friend looked at her, worry all over her freckled face. “I mean a psychologist. Or perhaps participated in a PTSD group therapy or rape survivors group therapy? It might help, you know...”

She couldn’t help but whimper when hearing _that_ word.

“No.” Grace closed her eyes and leaned back against her sofa. Despite being best friends, she didn’t like talking about what had happened those three days, though she did explain a bit so her friends, family and police would understand. “My dad made me see a psychiatrist for a few years in Berlin, it was one of his many conditions so I could stay there. To give him peace of mind, you know?”

The raven-haired snuggled into her best friend’s side, searching for warmth and acceptance, then continued explaining.

“I still get in touch with her once or twice every few months.”

Dr. Louise Bell had been like an angel sent from Heaven. She had been kind and patient with her, explaining how the impact of _that_ _incident_ went far beyond any physical injuries, supporting her and never judging her. Also, the psychologist had been right.

Grace had spent a month in the hospital because of her physical injuries but to this day, she was still recovering from the internal ones.

The world would never feel like a completely safe place ever again.

Nor would she trust others as much as she did before.

Neither did she stop self-degrading herself or questioning her judgment from time to time.

She still had nightmares, a few flashbacks, and unpleasant memories coming back to her from time to time. Nevertheless, time helped to heal.

 _“You are not dirty, Grace. Neither are you damaged goods or unworthy of love.”_ she always replayed Louise’s words in her mind when she was feeling bad about herself or in one of her depressive episodes.

She had improved a lot in many aspects. Grace didn’t shower three times a day anymore, nor did she start shaking when seeing a man and she had been able to go to a park again.

_“Not Central Park, though. Not yet.”_

The raven-haired had gained much confidence and self-love through her friends, Louise’s help and her powers –the last thing helping a lot in certain areas.

But relationships and intimacy were yet impossible for her.

She had tried but it had gone wrong so soon.

“I did try… I went on a couple of dates with this guy in Berlin and…” She sighed, the memories fuzzy in her mind because of how scared and anxious she had been back then. “All was going well until we kissed but… he touched my waist and I flipped out.”

He had gone flying, but Lisa didn't need to know about that.

Lisa, always kind to her, hugged her closer to herself; letting Grace confide and vent if she needed to.

“Dr. Bell told me to talk about it, to challenge myself from time to time, to reconnect with my body and feelings while not avoiding or numbing them,” Grace explained, thinking back about all she learned in her sessions with Louise. “You know I also took some self-defense lessons, learned yoga and even did massage therapy to not be so uncomfortable with being touched.”

_“And became a night vigilante of some sort.”_

“I can stand people touching me but... ” she rubbed her hands together, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “A relationship means trusting someone and having intimacy… I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”

“And that’s okay, Grace.”

“Yeah, I know. Dr. Bell always reminds me that everyone deals with trauma in their own way. So even if it has been six years, I can take all the time I need.”

Lisa patted the arm hers was draped on.

“Please, don’t think I’m pressuring you into going around hooking up or dating random people… I just worry about you sometimes.”

Grace looked up at her friend and gave her a soft smile, nodding. Then, she rested her head on her shoulder, looking at the TV.

“He really looks hot while smoking though.”

She was talking about Tommy Shelby, who was currently smoking a cigarette in front of a nun, looking like a dark prince.

“Fuck, he really does.”

**[ * * * ]**

  
  


Grace was an early bird, she had always been one and probably will always be. The raven-haired liked sitting on her balcony, the views of her skyscraper apartment always being better than any morning News program, with a cup of coffee or even a smoothie.

The building, all constructed with glass and sustainable materials, had forty floors and her apartment was in the thirty-nine. Each floor was divided into two apartments, her thirty-nine neighbor was a nice woman recently divorced who worked in an expensive and reputed law firm.

The raven-haired didn’t usually interact much with her neighbors, though she knew that the five low floors were used for work purposes and that her neighbor from the forty bought his whole floor to make his apartment bigger because he was an eccentric millionaire who didn’t like sharing that much.

Also, he sometimes liked to use the stairs instead of the elevator.

_“Imagine using the stairs in a skyscraper of forty floors and with your apartment being in the last? Can’t relate at all.”_

She looked around her balcony, which was quite bigger than a standard one and smiled proudly at her good taste in furniture. The raven-haired selected white and black furniture for this place, plus added many plants. A low garden glass table was in the center, a big white sofa placed against her big glass windows and looking directly towards the table and subsequent views, a big white armchair on the left of the table looking at the low table and all big beautiful pot plants through the floor of the whole railing, surrounding it.

“Grace, do you prefer having breakfast here or we go and hit Pauli’s Diner for a quick meal?”

Her blonde friend asked from the kitchen. The big balcony was connected to the living room, which was open-concept with the kitchen, so her voice sounded quite close to her. Grace stood up, placed her coffee on the glass table, and folded her fluffy grey blanket on the white armchair.

She picked her cup and walked inside, seeing Lisa in the kitchen preparing more coffee, her stereo on in the _WXYZ Radio_ channel.

“ _Good morning, Gothamites! It’s me, Alan Scott and currently, it is seven AM of this fine Saturday morning. If you have been paying attention to social media or the News, you probably already know that last night things went crazy in our dear city. But to those who don’t know, last night Poison Ivy was being personally delivered to Arkham Asylum by GCPD until things went BOOM!”_

Both Lisa and her looked at the stereo with interest, confusion across the blonde’s pale face while the raven-haired waited for confirmation of Harley’s plan succeeding.

“Fuck, what happened now?” her friend muttered.

“I don’t know,” she said a white lie, after all, she truly didn’t know what really happened.

_“Literally, things went BOOM. The crazy bird Harley Quinn blew up many of GCPD car patrols and the SWAT van where Ivy was being transported allowing the eco-terrorist to escape. Five policemen died on the spot and the other seven are in critical condition. Unfortunately, two passed away on their way to Gotham City General Hospital. Despite Batman and Robin trying to help, as of now Harley and Ivy are missing. Commissioner Gordon and Mayor Sebastian Hady’s joint press appearance is scheduled at 10 am today and we will get further information. Now, Molly. What do you think about this horrible incident?”_

“God, the Hospital and the clinic are probably bustling.” Lisa’s hands went to her head as if going insane just thinking about it. Then, she turned towards her best friend. “Yesterday and today are my free days, should I call my boss and offer my help?”

Grace was completely in shock.

She had specifically asked Harley to not kill any policeman. The raven-haired had done so when they first talked about the plan in the nightclub VIP room, then twice at their “sleepover” and another time after delivering the explosives.

Harley had promised her she wouldn’t.

_“That damned harlequin...”_

“Grace?” her friend called her, looking up with concern towards the kitchen ceiling where the lights were flashing on and off nonstop. “Grace?!”

_“I’m going to fucking kill that lying harlequin and make myself a carpet with her hyenas.”_

The lightbulbs in the ceiling exploded, Lisa letting out a very high scream and protecting her head with her hands while bending over a bit.

_“You are a dead man walking, Harley Quinn.”_


	5. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there!
> 
> I usually post a new chapter every Tuesday but I had my finals this week and it was impossible for me to finish the damn chapter on time. So, I'm sorry. If this happens again, I promise I'll say something on my Tumblr @dahvangogh (where I also post this fic and reblog inspo/spoiler quotes or pics btw).
> 
> Now with the chapter... There is a certain scene I'm very happy to finally post, though I'm not very happy about how I wrote the big final scene.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments, hits and kudos, they have all made me so so so happy. Now, I want to ask... Is my writing okay? I find it a bit stiff or weird, though because it's not my native language I'm not sure if that's true or it's truly okay.
> 
> What do you think about the new chapter? Did you like it? What do you think will happen next? Please, leave a comment down below if you can and see you on the next one!
> 
> Much love xx

> _“As if you were on fire from within._
> 
> _The moon lives in the lining of your skin.” – Pablo Neruda_

Saturday had been ethic, to say the least. Grace had accompanied Lisa to Gotham City General Hospital after her friend had called her boss a thousand times and he hadn’t answered the phone. Her blonde friend could be fun and always ready for trouble, but she would always be the first one to lend a helping hand. The Hospital’s main entrance had been crowded with police guarding the doors and reporters crowding around.

Grace had waited outside while Lisa went inside through the employees’ door. Ten minutes later, and a headache from the shouts and yells from the paparazzi to the poor policemen doing their job, she had gotten a text from her friend telling her she was staying to help and will call her later.

The raven-haired had gone to a small bookshop, a hidden gem in the gothic-themed city, trying to calm her rage with a new book.

She had ended buying a beautiful vintage version of _Wuthering Heights,_ despite having read it in her kindle many times, and sat all morning in a Parisian-themed café. She had finished it whole while sipping a cappuccino with the sirens of the police cars and ambulances as a background soundtrack.

That evening, after having a small meal due to her queasy stomach, she had pressed play to her 70s music playlist and cleaned her house from head to bottom until everything was spotless. After finishing, she had taken a relaxing bath and almost drowned when falling asleep in the bathtub. After that, Grace had chatted a bit with Lisa, who had seemed tired and without wanting to talk much about the hospitalized police officers or anything; then ate a small dinner, again due to her unsettled stomach, and finally, she had jumped to her big comfy bed.

She sighs, hugging one of her big pillows, turning around and still not comfortable.

_Tomorrow…_

The room is pitch dark, except the soft night light sneaking through the curtains that cover her ceiling to floor windows, and the raven-haired doesn’t hear any sounds, as usual, emitted by the busy city below her tower.

_She will pay for what she has done._

She turns again, this time face down while hugging a bit her pillow, and places her head looking to the side.

Finally comfortable, Grace drifts off.

**[ - - - ]**

  
  


_Grace feels on cloud nine._

_Her bed has never felt as comfortable and warm as it does now, so she refuses to wake up. She wants to prolong this moment for as long as she can, to break such a rare moment of peace –where her anxiety is tamed and not as high as a skyscraper, or her hands aren’t feeling clammy despite rubbing them together nonstop–, would be like committing a sacrilege._

_So, she keeps her eyes closed and her face furrowed on her warm pillow._

_Her hand, resting on her flat stomach, starts moving –without her wanting to– and travels until touching something hard but warm._

_She feels the steady beat of a heart through the palm of her hand._

_Though, it isn’t her heart._

_The raven-haired wants to go full alert, her mind screaming inside about the dangers of someone being near her while she is so vulnerable, but her body doesn’t follow orders._

_She has never felt more at ease than she does now._

_Don’t mistake her, Grace’s mind keeps screaming inside her, still trying to make her body answer but yet she remains in the same position._

_Grace stays laying face down with her hand on someone’s hard chest._

_She feels a strong big arm sneak under her neck, now acting as another pillow despite her head lying on one, and its hand starts combing through her hair, the movements slow and steady._

_It feels so good, she almost moans out loud._

_Her feet finally move a bit, swimming in the sea of silky and soft sheets, until they meet the touch of another pair. Her toes shyly touch the foreigner limbs for a few seconds, as if exploring and meeting someone new. Instinctively then, instead of jumping out of the bed as any sane person would, she interlocks their limbs together._

_That gets her a reaction from the mysterious being._

_A soft caress on her cheek, so soft and loving she wants to cry and beg for the touch to never stop, and so she answers tugging his feet closer towards her limbs._

_“Love… ” the low male whisper is as soft as a feather and gives her goosebumps, “Love.”_

_She opens her eyes slowly, forgetting the warnings her mind keeps shouting inside her and discerns a pale chiseled jaw connected to a thick and strong-looking neck thanks to the night light sneaking through her curtains._

_“Oh, there she is.” the mocking tone on the voice doesn’t hide how loving the sentence sounds, plump lips curling into the hottest and sweetest smile she has ever seen. “Hello, love.”_

_Her fingertips itch to touch him, to memorize those soft lips and strong jaw so later she can draw him until she runs out of paper, and it makes her feel so weird and stalkerish. Grace feels her cheeks redden and quickly looks down, accidentally moving and placing her head on the croak of his neck, hiding from him._

_He chuckles softly._

_“Oh, I see... we playing hide and seek?” his big hand combs through her locks, calmly untangling her dark tresses. Then, just as calm, he begins his countdown. “Ten…”_

_He is so warm and she feels truly safe and loved in his arms._

_Her stare is directly on his abs, now realizing that her lover sports a ridiculously perfect six-pack which unintentionally makes her toes twitch. She can’t help herself and so her stare travels a bit lower._

_“Five”_

_Grace bites her lip when seeing the dark happy trail below his belly button and follows it with her eyes, almost gasping out loud when seeing his V line. Her eyes go up, trying not to see what’s lower of that V line, and sees his broad chest. She can’t help but think, how it is much better sculpted than even Michelangelo’s David. Her hand, already placed on it from before, slowly travels towards the attractive jaw with her eyes following the movement._

_She caresses his strong jaw, feeling the beginning of stubble growing, sighing loudly as she cups his cheek._

_“One.”_

_He feels so soft and warm, perfectly fitting the palm of her hand as if it had been created just for her, and so she sighs again, totally entranced._

_After six years of avoiding any physical touch or intimacy, Grace feels like she wants to kiss someone._

_Her toes curl at the thought of losing herself in his arms, to devour those soft and plump lips of his until she is left breathless and her body completely flushed._

_Grace closes her eyes and turns her face to the side, reverently kissing his palm once._

_She hears him emit a low sound that makes her tummy and a place lower inside her throb until her toes curl again. It is a foreigner feeling, one she has never felt before, almost scaring her how her whole body is burning with want and need._

_“Don’t leave me.”_

_She can’t help but beg._

_He feels like how perfection probably feels like._

_His arms feel strong and loving, and it has been a long time since Grace has felt as loved and protected as she does now, and he tugs her closer._

_“Please…”_

_She opens her eyes, wanting to remember this moment; a tear falling and running through her cheek._

_Her lover, propping himself up on an elbow while hugging her towards him, kisses the hand on his cheek. Then, his face comes closer until the tip of his nose rubs her own in an Eskimo kiss._

_She can’t help herself and smiles lovingly at him, her arms encircling his neck and hugging him towards her._

_“_ _Be with me always. Take any form, drive me mad!” she lets out a small gasp, his quoting of Wuthering Heights making her thighs rub together. “Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you... ”_

_His left-hand cups her cheek, tenderly caressing it, and she tilts her head towards it._

_“Oh, God. it is unutterable... ” he nips at her lower lip, then drags it towards him and lets it go with a soft kiss. His cheeks are tinted adorably red. “I can not live without my life, I can not live without my soul.”_

_She looks up, needing eye-contact and to discover if his eyes are as beautiful as she sees him is, when everything goes dark._

Grace wakes up, desperately looking beside her and patting the empty bedside beside her as if searching for him, then looks at the alarm on her nightstand. 

It’s 05:55.

The raven-haired fans herself with her hand, tying her hair up despite the tresses sticking to her neck and face.

_It felt so real._

_Why did it feel so real?_

She rubs her thighs together, sweat coating her forehead and feeling too hot despite the doors of her bedroom’s balcony being wide open. Grace gulps, her mouth feeling as dry as sandpaper, and she raises from her bed.

Immediately, she notices how wet her panties are.

“Oh god… ”

The raven-haired goes to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator and picks up a glass water bottle. She chugs it, drinking straight from the bottle instead of pouring it in a glass as she usually would, and smacks it against the marble aisle.

She puts her hands on her hips and almost jumps from how weird the contact feels, her body still feels clammy and too tender.

Grace decides a cold shower and a change of pajamas, underwear included, is in order.

The shower is as quick as lightning, probably similar to those that superhero Flash has, and she quickly picks up one of her brand new sketch pads and her pencil case on her way to her living room’s balcony.

She plops herself in the white armchair and draws him, all that she saw of him and touched with her fingers, drafting and drawing him throughout many pages of her sketchpad.

Ten pages just of his body.

His thick and strong neck.

His chiseled jaw.

His plump lips.

His sweet and perfect smile.

The only thing that makes her wake up from this sort of trance, after three hours of drawing him so she will remember him when her mind fails to, is her phone ringing annoyingly.

She picks it up.

“Bitch! I’ve been bombarding you with messages since an hour ago!” Lisa’s loud voice makes her furrow her brows. “You okay?”

Grace gulps and tries to smile.

“Yeah… yeah. ” she nods, which is stupid because Lisa can’t see her. “I was just drawing, you know how I get when I’m in my bubble… ”

“Oh, yeah. Well, why don’t we go to Pauli’s Diner for a good breakfast and to disconnect?”

Grace raises a brow.

“Aren’t you still at work?”

“Nah, the boss gave me Sunday off because I went to help yesterday.” She hears her friend sigh dramatically. “I offered my free Saturday to help and he said I could have today off. Weird, right? Since when is my boss a good person that cares about others? But fuck it, a good breakfast will do me some good.”

She laughs at her best friend’s ramble.

“Okay, see you in fifteen minutes on our spot!”

Grace stands up, her sketchpad and blanket dropping on the floor.

“Wait! I can’t… ”

But her friend already hung up.

“Lisa! ”

  
  


**[ - - - ]**

  
  


The first thing Grace does after coming back from her breakfast with Lisa is to take an Advil. Then, she proceeds to shut the curtains, and only when the room is completely pitch black, she lays down on the bed and falls into the arms of Morpheus.

She wakes up at four pm thanks to the mailman, her migraine gone almost completely.

Yesterday, on her way home from the Parisian-themed café, she had dialed her father and asked for the urgent delivery of antivenin doses.

After six years, he didn’t even question her.

_“It will be at your house tomorrow, sweetheart. Please… whatever it is, be careful.”_

It seems, despite her never explaining anything, her father somehow knew she leads a sort of dangerous life. Though thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned it to her mother or long ago, Grace would have been submitted to extensive interrogation by her mom.

She opens the package and scans its contents. Three antivenins doses in its syringes with a plastic cap protecting their thin needles.

“Tonight,” she mutters to herself while storing them away in a small pouch in the utility belt of her suit. She stares at the black suit and touches it, her body shaking with excitement. “Tonight”.

Then, Grace prepares a quick meal and eats it in her living room’s balcony while finishing an essay for one of her classes, with a fluffy blanket protecting her body against the cold October wind. 

She thinks and overthinks about what to do with Quinn.

_I should drag her and Ivy to the GCPD with a bow tied around them._

She slowly chews her garlic bread, then drinks a bit more of her fresh orange juice.

_Or should I just kill them? From what I know, both have killed their fair innocent people before Friday and they are a danger to society._

Grace keeps pondering about it while brushing her teeth, then tying her hair up in a bun, and changing into her sports bra and yoga pants.

She would probably decide what to do while training in the gym.

Probably.

**[ - - - ]**

  
  


It is truly a pity that Toxic Acres’s newly built houses and its neighborhood will forever, or at least until further notice, remain unsuitable as a residence for civilians due to its close proximity to a toxic waste dump.

The neighborhood is actually beautiful, though it is a deadly beauty.

Grace thinks she is immune to the toxicity surrounding the neighbor. When she had visited Quinn’s home the night they met and the other many times, including her special delivery of explosives, she hadn’t felt sick at all or had any subsequent effects of poisoning due to toxicity.

Yet, she knows Poison Ivy is an expert in not only poisonous plants and toxins but also of entrancing people with her pheromones.

Therefore, she had injected one of the antivenins at home before putting her suit and gear on and teleporting to the neighborhood.

Better safe than sorry, right?

Now, in front of Quinn’s apartment door, Grace seriously considers knocking or ringing the bell. Her good manners and impeccable vocabulary are always present, even before killing or arresting someone.

_My parents raised me to be a proper lady… And while I don’t know if I’m a lady, I am totally well-mannered._

She ends up deciding that today she will be a bit rude.

The raven-haired extends her left hand and Jedi-like slides her palm, the main door opening without resistance from any lock.

Grace high heeled boots clatter as she walks herself in uninvited.

_Why do I feel so edgy?_

She hears Bud and Lou immediately come running towards her, their hoot-laugh annoying her to no end, and so she decides to quickly put them to sleep. She snaps her fingers and hears the sound of them collapsing to the floor.

“Bud?! Lou?!” Harley sounds between worried and alarmed. She keeps walking through the hallway towards the big living room. “My babies!”

She reclines her body on the threshold of the room, smiling sweetly despite wanting to knock Harley’s teeth off.

“Grace?” Harley’s pale face is masked in confusion, her head adorably tilted. “What are ya’ doing here?”

_Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar_

Quinn is sitting on the sofa, curled up into Poison Ivy’s side, wearing a set of black and red pajamas with diamond and heart symbols printed all over it. Despite that, she is wearing matching makeup on and her hair is styled in two ponytails.

“Hello, Harley.”

She turns towards the redhead and almost steps back. 

The pull that woman has is powerful and scary at the same time. Her aura and body are constantly emitting pheromones and toxins, and just in case Grace lets her power visibly curl around her to protect herself.

“Harl, is that your friend Grace?” Ivy’s seductive and airy voice asks Quinn.

Pamela Isley is painfully beautiful in a unique way. Long fiery-red hair falling in soft waves around her torso, tan skin glowing and plump green lips. She is wearing silk pale green pajamas and they look more sensual than comfortable or homey.

The couple coordinately stands up from the big red sofa, the unconscious hyenas scattered near it, and look to her as if expecting her to explain why did she break-in.

 _Duh_.

“You must be Ivy.” she smiles to the redhead, nodding her head. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Through the corner of her eye, she sees vines and plants start curling around the walls and floor. Ivy sort of smiles, probably feeling between friendliness and suspicion due to the green bluish aura surrounding her –or the unconscious hyenas–, and nods to what she just said.

“Likewise. Harley has told me everything about you.” the couple is now five feet away from her, though the blonde is kneeling while trying to wake up her dear pets. “A friend of Harl is a friend of mine.”

She mockingly opens her mouth in surprise.

“A friend of Harley?” she feigns astonishment, even going as far as placing a hand atop her right breast. “Me?”

Harley looks up while still remaining in the same position.

“Of course, you’re my friend. Ya’ helped me! ”

She would have smiled at Harley’s sweet smile if she wasn’t as angry as she currently was.

“But friends don’t lie to each other, right Harley?”

The blonde tilts her head, then stands.

“What… whatcha mean?”

Ivy takes a step towards her, vines and plants falling from the ceiling and bursting from the floor, the living room starting to look more like a botanic garden than a homey place.

“The police, Harley.” she tilts her head, a maniac smile appearing on her face. “The police.”

Harley stands up while blinking quizzically, then it seems she finally gets it and smiles shamefaced, her mouth curling in a bashful smile.

“Oops.”

Grace clenches her fists and the ceiling blows up, vines and plants falling from the sky as if it was raining nature.

“My plants! How dare you!?”

Ivy’s scream doesn’t even faze her, the raven-haired too angry with the harlequin to even feel threatened or scared.

“10 people have died in total, Quinn! Ten! And two are in critical condition!” she yells and the sofa and tv explode. Quinn, just shrugs which makes her even angrier than before, “You promised!”

“Accidents happen, ya’ know?”

The blonde’s high pitched voice annoys her now more than ever.

“You little piece of shit… ” Grace takes a step forward and extends her hand, going for her usual neck chokehold. She doesn’t even register her own coarse vocabulary. “You are so dead.”

Harley floats up in the air but before flying towards her glowing hand, vines start encircling her legs and arms, binding her to the floor.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” the redhead raises her perfectly plucked brow and new vines emerge from the floor, slapping and trying to stab her. “It’s over for you, nature always wins.” 

She swats them away with her power, the vines either catching on fire or completely burning out. 

Poison Ivy screams, a sound so high and piercing that Grace feels like her eardrums will probably burst and she will end up deaf. Out of nowhere, Harley jumps high towards her, swinging her circus hammer –where the hell did she get, it is a mystery to her– and she extends her hand, seeing clearly the perfect opening to grab the blonde.

_Bingo._

Harley’s neck is now on her hand.

“I specially asked you to not kill any of the GCPD while you helped Ivy escape or I would kill you with my bare hands.” A circle of power protects both of them from Ivy’s nonstop attacks, though Grace doesn’t pay her as much attention as she probably should. The ebony-haired raises the hand she isn’t using, bites her index finger and slides her leather black glove off. “I keep my promises.”

The circus hammer falls to the ground as Grace tightens her hold on the blonde’s neck with her gloveless hand.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” the harlequin is still smiling and talking despite her very strong grip. A sudden attack of many pointy and deadly looking vines makes Grace lose her balance a bit, but the defense circle repels it and even sets on fire a few of them. “This is just a misunderstanding… I thought you said civilians, not cops!”

“Cut the bullshit! I clearly said cops!” her grip tightens even more, by now any normal person would have already blacked out or even died from lack of oxygen. “Stop lying!”

“Drop her or you will end up being fertilizer for my dear plants!”

“Oh, shut it.” she makes a motion of shooing her away with her gloveless hand, but Ivy uses her vines as a shield. “You will be next, don’t worry!”

Ivy’s next attack almost shatters the defensive shield.

“Quinn, last words?”

The redheaded vines raise up in the sky, thicker and more pointy than ever, the moon shining through the thick and lush vines.

“Believe me, no one wants to hear them.”

The words are followed with loud sounds of shots being fired and the surprise makes her drop Harley. Quickly, Grace creates a new protecting circle around herself. After all, the other shield was close to being completely shattered.

_That voice… Red Hood? Impossible!_

She looks up while Harley runs towards where Ivy is.

It seems the ceiling hadn’t blown up completely before, for he is standing up on the floor of the apartment above them while shooting down towards Ivy and her vines –the later using her plants as a shield for Harley and herself–. 

His aura burns so brightly and fiercely, it almost makes her fear that she will catch on fire and burn too.

“Red?”

He looks exactly like he did back then.

She is alarmed that she feels happy and elated that he didn’t die.

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you when I finish with these two.”

Grace huffs loudly at his audacity, despite her clearly being able to kill him with the snap of her fingers.

“Take care of me? Careful or I will throw a wall to your face.”

She hears his loud laugh, technologically modified by his helmet.

“We will see.”

Through the corner of her eye Grace registers Harley picking up her circus hammer and new pointy stems of plants rising from the ground.

“This is all very nice and shit, but she attacked me first!”

Harley yells while marching towards her.

“Because you killed those cops, you liar!”

Poison Ivy’s stem rise and thicken, their pointy ends shinning by the light from the moon, advancing towards her.

It seems Red Hood takes pity on her and he unleashes a curvy blade, jumping atop the thick stems and slashing them.

_Focus on Harley._

She sends bolt after bolt of her powers to the blonde, but she keeps dogging them and approaching her. Grace quickly muses and decides that she needs to try something new, and so she concentrates her power on her hands and sends a blast.

“Nature always wins, Red Hood!”

It hits Harley directly on the chest and sends her flying towards the opposite wall.

She analyses her aura, its flames dull and calm, and so she realizes that the blonde is completely knocked out.

Grace turns towards Ivy and Red Hood, the later wrestling with a thick stem while dodging attack after attack from other stems. The raven-haired looks around, searching for something to tie up Harley until she remembers she always carries a few zip ties on one of the pouches in her utility belt.

She ties Harley’s hands behind her back and punches her in the face.

“That’s for lying, you clown.”

The maniac cackle of Ivy alarms her.

“That’s it, you are dead!”

She turns, alarmed by those words, and sees the exact moment when one of the many thick pointy stems cuts him on his left wrist. He had been wrestling and cutting plant after plant with his curved blade while Ivy relentlessly attacked him.

“Red?!”

Grace sends a concentrated and powerful blast towards Poison Ivy and it hits the redhead right on the face, knocking her to the nearest wall. The plants recede into the ground or curl away from the ceiling until the room no longer looks like a botanical garden and more like a messy and wrecked living room.

He turns around, his LED white eyes staring at her, wobbling while taking a step further.

“You… ”

He staggers again, his strong and heavy body swaying a bit, and groans while putting one of his gloved hands to his face.

_Twenty bucks say that plant was poisonous._

“That crazy bitch… ”

She circles him and walks towards Ivy, kneeling on the ground and tying the redhead’s hands behind her back.

“There.”

Grace hears another groan and she looks over her shoulder.

“Don’t move, I will hand your ass to… the… police. ”

She tries not to laugh out loud at seeing him, so big and strong looking, wobbling like that while still trying to go up against her.

“Oh Red, you never fail to amuse… ”

“Stay there.”

He takes a step further and suddenly drops to the ground, the loud sound of his body hitting the floor matching with his loud groan.

She gasps, quickly rising and approaching him.

Grace kneels beside him, picking both his wrists to searching for the slash.

He grabs her wrist, his hold tight.

“What do you... think… you are doing?”

She searches through her pouches in her utility belt and takes one of the two remaining syringes out, dropping it in his chest. Then, she grabs the wrist where the slash is and rolls up his sleeve. His pale forearm is heavy and looks strong, her two arms probably make one of his, the veins bulging out quite a bit and she tries not to think how hot it is.

What can she say, she always had a thing for veiny hands and arms.

“What? No… no… no.”

He tries to break free from her hold but she tugs his arm so it stays in place.

“I’m saving your life, you dumbass. So be quiet and stay put.”

With her free hand, she quickly picks up the syringe and bites the cap off the needle. Then, she holds his wrist so tightly it cuts his circulation and when a blueish vein stands out notoriously, she injects the needle and plunges the antivenin in.

“It’s antivenin, you will feel better in a few minutes.” She extracts the needle, pressing her tumb where she injected it so it doesn't leave a bruise. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to disinfect the slash though.”

He grunts in answer.

“Oh, you big baby.” she mocks him, then laughs while shaking her head. “Are you carrying any Band-Aids?”

He grunts again which makes her laugh.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Now, it's his turn to laugh –the sound while technologically modified still sounds throaty and low.

“Well, this was fun but I’m getting out of here.” She pats him in the chest and sees how the bat symbol lights up, ready to leat a bolt of energy out. Grace quickly directs her power to her hands right in time to the symbol letting out a potent electrical shock. “Nice try.”

She stands up while he sits down holding his head, snapping her fingers and making the used syringe and cap disappear.

“I don’t remember that happening last time… What, you got that thing because you didn’t like me touching you?” she feigns to be hurt, though inside she feels alarmed that she might have hurt him last time with her careless actions. “I’m hurt.”

_You hate people touching you that way, but then go around throwing yourself in someone’s arms without asking for his consent? You big hypocrite._

“No.” the word sounds guttural, though he quickly clears his throat and stands up. “It had been malfunctioning for a few days, you were just lucky.”

She tilts her head when she sees him put a hand at the back of his neck.

_Is he embarrassed?_

Grace laughs while turning around, ready to walk away and get the hell out of this place.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?”

He grabs her left wrist and turns her around.

“Me? Home.”

He laughs as if he can’t believe her.

“Don’t think so. I’m handing your ass in.”

She clicks her tongue.

“Why?”

“10 people died because of the explosives you gave Harley. So don’t feign ignorance, sweetheart.”

She sighs and relaxes her body, tilting her head up to see him because of how tall he is.

“Would you believe me if I tell you that I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt?” she points at Harley with her free hand. “I told her not to kill anyone, she lied to me and said she wouldn’t.”

He stares at her, not saying anything.

“That’s why I came here.” she shrugs while feeling like the worst person on the planet. “I was going to hand those two in.”

He tilts his head, his hold on her hand relaxing a bit.

“Sorry but that looked like you were going to strangle Quinn.”

His tone is mocking.

“She can be very annoying.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

She laughs at his comment, shaking her head.

“Let go of my wrist.” her voice is barely a whisper. “Please.” 

He does as she said, though he takes a step further until they are both standing as close as humanly possible. She looks up even more than before, mentally cursing him for being so freaking tall, and places her hands on his hips.

“Now… can I go?”

“No.”

She pouts.

“Pretty please?”

He huffs and shakes his head.

“No.”

She concentrates a bit of her power on her hands and places them on his chest, the bat symbol uselessly letting go another electrical shock, and she shakes her head imitating him.

“Oh, c’mon Red!” she pouts again, trying to look seductive or at least cute enough to not hand her to the GCPD. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He laughs loudly, a throaty sound that comes from deep within which she can feel through her glowy hands, and lowers his head so it's closer to her face.

“Cute but no.”

She sighs dejected, then nods while patting his chest

“I’m sorry, Red.”

The glow in her hands brighten and he realizes what is about to happen, trying to pull back and avert the upcoming attack.

“Too late.”

She sends a blast his way and he collides with the wall, dropping to a sitting position beside Quinn’s unconscious form.

Grace takes advantage of his disoriented state and opens a portal to Robinson Park, where she plans to open another one to her house.

“Men… Always falling to the same old tricks.”

She sighs while saying it, knowing he will hear her, and crosses the portal until she is standing on the city’s main park. She turns around and sees him already standing up and running towards her.

“Bye, Red!”

Grace closes the portal on his face.


	6. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, miss me?
> 
> this chapter has been a prototype and experiment of some sort. you will understand when you read it. it took me longer than usual to write it (and i'm still very unsure about whether the chapter is good or not, so tell me what you think please!) and then my dog got super sick, which made me even more worried and I couldn't concentrate on writing, but its finally done.
> 
> again, I don't have a beta and though I tried to correct it all, there are probably some typos or grammar mistakes.
> 
> please, try to leave a comment down below because it helps me a lot and it gives me more confidence.
> 
> see ya soon!
> 
> much love xx

> “Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
> 
> – Terry Pratchett, _A Hat Full of Sky_

Jason Todd didn’t have time to sleep.

_“Sleep? What’s that?”_

Gotham City’s pull on him triumphs over anything else in his life and it’s impossible for him to stay away for much too long. The longest had been when he had died and then stayed with the League of Assassins –with its subsequent years of training under masters of many _arts_ and skills–.

After coming back, as Red Hood because Jason Todd was dead to the world and sometimes even to himself, he had tried to be a Crime Lord. He had cleaned the streets of Gotham, helped his people and ruled with a fist of iron; all while being a pain in Bruce’s ass.

In his eyes, it had been a win-win situation.

He wanted to make B suffer after forgetting and leaving him behind.

After all, the man who he had loved as a father and who he had placed above anyone else in his life, had left him to rot and die at the hands of a psychopathic clown. Even worse, after only six months he had found a replacement for him and paraded him around.

That had hurt much more than any torture inflicted by the Joker.

So, revenge and anger had been the fuel to the fire of his life.

Jason knew the Lazarus Pit had changed him and not for the best. He might be stronger, much bigger and heal faster than any normal human being, yet something wasn’t quite right with him. It seems his mind had been wired wrong, the pieces not arranged correctly or too broken for that, and now he lived on extremes.

He didn’t feel much pain, only in extreme situations; he had anger issues, and it’s very easy to make him lose it; he felt emotions very strongly and radically: either he liked you or hated you –though he has been working on that and is getting better. He has gained friends throughout the years and he is getting better at controlling his emotions, a bit.

Also, thanks to the fucking clown, his shoulders and shoulder blades felt constantly like they were being weighed down; and don’t get him started on his how his knees sometimes became heavy and hurt like a motherfucker.

_Fucking Joker._

Nevertheless, he hadn’t taken into account how much he loved Bruce and their little dysfunctional family.

Dick, with tears in his blue eyes, had dragged his ass to Arkham Asylum where he had spent some time and it had helped his mental health a bit.

Yet when he had gotten out, Dick had welcomed him back with open arms.

Mind you, it had been a slow process. He had a new brother and sister, his replacement not trusting him at all –though that might have been because of his time as a Crime Lord and the fact that he had kicked his ass into oblivion– and his sister was a tough cookie (with an annoying bushy-haired best friend stuck to her side, who mysteriously had also been a Robin, then had taken the mantle of Batgirl and now was something called Spoiler, and had a tendency to break into the Manor whenever she felt like it); then shortly, the Devil Spawn had appeared and made things even more difficult. The kid was truly something else. Jason had seen him grow up when he had stayed in the League, even looked after him once or twice, but he had grown into an annoying and diabolic tiny child. Despite that, Dick and Babs had supported and helped him, always there as they did when he was a scrawny teenager, and he was sort of back into the fold.

 _Sort of_ being the key words.

His relationship with Bruce had been permanently scarred and because of that, he came and went into the family whenever B accepted him in.

Jason knew Bruce didn’t trust him, he thought of him as the black sheep and disappointment of the family. Always ready to be too critical and cold with him.

It became a cycle of some sort.

Jason did something bad, Bruce beat him to a pulp, then make him sweat for a few months and subsequently welcomed him back until the cycle would begin once again.

The subject of Bruce Wayne would forever be a sore one for Jason Todd.

Despite all of that, he stayed in Gotham City as a bat-affiliated vigilante for most of his time –sometimes he would go here and there, doing some illegal stuff with Roy or other friends of his– in one of his many safehouses. He never stayed in one too many days, rotating or changing the order of stay for his protection, and did the worst dirty works.

Pimps, drug dealers, pedophiles… In other words: Black Mask.

That fucker was the bane of his existence.

(Though sometimes they would get along if the situation required it for both of them)

The man was a big fish with connections to other bigger fish and many other big bad fuckers like Slade and a long etcetera of other people. Thus, this all made stopping him or even handing his disgusting ass to the police into something near impossible.

So, Jason kept a close eye on Black Mask and his many transactions. Then, he would either report the information to B, ruin Blackie’s plans if he crossed one of Jason’s rules or just to bust his balls for fun.

He had gotten a tip that Mr. Mask had just gotten a shipment of explosives to one of his many warehouses. Jason would have reported this to B and moved on, it was nothing too important, until he got the tip that Black Mask’s thugs used the warehouse despicable purposes.

Words such as _gang-raping, young girls and snuff_ were used, and he went to investigate.

He had caught a few of them dragging a dead naked young girl, probably not older than 12 years old, from the back door of the warehouse into a black van.

Jason had lost it.

Screw Batman and his no-killing rule.

He had killed them all, four outside the back of the warehouse and three inside on the upper floor. The room had a wooden chair with ropes at its feet and the walls and floor surrounding it were tinted with fresh blood.

It had reminded him of what had happened to him.

When he had gotten out of there by one of the windows thanks to his hook, he had stepped on a roof and saw quite a show.

A woman dressed in a black suit sweeping the floor with the thugs he hadn’t killed yet.

She was clearly a meta.

Only when she stepped inside the building did he drop down and access the warehouse (again) through the broken window he had used before.

The raven-haired woman spent a few minutes inspecting the lower floor’s wooden boxes as if searching for something specific. He had taken advantage of her being distracted and analyzed her.

She wasn’t employed by Black Mask, that was clear after her knocking the front door thugs out.

She was petite despite her high-heeled black boots, hair up in a sleek dark ponytail and wearing a full-body black suit. It sort of reminded him of Catwoman’s suit, but the fabric looked more sturdy and she wore a utility belt with small pouches.

When he descended the stairs and leaned against one of the many concrete pillars, waiting for her to end her little investigation, Jason unabashedly kept staring at her.

The woman was kneeling in the middle of the room, four wooden boxes had seemed to catch her attention, with her ass up in the air.

She had a nice ass, he would give her that, perky and round.

“It is considered rude to stare at someone and not greet them.” She nonchalantly called him out, her voice tinted with sweetness, all while rising up from her position and turning around.

She stared at him, though the domino mask with the white lenses make it impossible for him to discern the look she is giving him; her big plump lips open slightly.

He raised a brow at that, though she wouldn’t be able to see that thanks to his red helmet.

Despite wanting to hide it from him, she was either feeling anxious or being too analytical.

“Red Hood, I presume?”

He couldn’t help it and shrugged, humoring her.

“In the flesh.”

She kept staring at him and he couldn’t help but smirk, the girl was kind of checking him out (or his ego was as big as the stratosphere).

“Thought you didn’t go around killing people anymore?” she is so trying to buy time, her voice youthful and a bit high, and tilts her head.

He stood up, his shoulder too tense for his liking and waited for what was about to unfold.

“Rough night. Bat can suck it.” He pointed at her, curiosity triumphing over him. “Now, time for you to introdu…”

She raised her left hand, glowing a fascinating blue-green color, and rudely interrupted him. Next thing he knew, she was running towards him, ready to strike him.

“And you talk about manners…” he joked.

Jason dodged her first punch easily, then quickly grabed the fist she was going to punch him with, clucking humorously.

“You suck at fighting, so stick to magic.”

He wanted to laugh but remembered not to lower his guard down.

They were standing close, almost chest to chest, and she instantly threw her head back a bit as to look at him better because of how small she was compared to him. Her sun-kissed cheeks were blushed rouge and her lips looked shiny, a wet look to them, in a matching tone.

Jason raised a brow at that, staring at them almost dumbly.

“Oh…” she smiled charmingly at him, the tip of her tongue licking her bottom lip, while shrugging her petite shoulders. “As you wish.”

He realized what she meant and tried to step back, letting go of his hold on her fist, and next thing he knew, he was up in the air in a fucking blue-green bubble and getting slapped left and right by the small witch –despite her not touching him.

“It’s fun, right?” her laugh had no joy behind it, but he still felt annoyed and disliked feeling as powerless as he was now. His jaw clenched while he furrowed his brows, trying to regain control over his own body. “You should have shot me right when you saw me, Red.”

He let out a grunt, his annoyance slipping through, and she stopped slapping him, her hands rested on her hips.

“I heard so much about you.” the little alluring witch was smiling sweetly at him, taunting him with her words. “From what I heard, you painted Gotham City red for a few months. So many fear you… If only they saw you now. Completely powerless.”

If it’s even possible, at first his jaw clenched even more. The annoying girl wouldn’t know what hit her the moment he gets free and he pictures twenty different ways of making her pay for playing with him like if he was a fucking puppet. He tries time and time again to open his mouth, to let something out, and while she turned around ignoring him, the words finally came out of his open mouth.

“Who are you?” he asked first, curiosity getting the best of him. More words came to him, slipping out all hurriedly from his mouth. “What do you want with Black Mask? What are you doing in Gotham?”

“None of your business, Little Red Riding Hood.” Her mocking annoyed him even more and Jason was fed up, ready to show the little witch who was the one in charge here. Jason registered how she scrunched her nose as if his questions annoyed her. “Now shut it or I will gag you.”

 _I’m gonna fuck you up, you little shit;_ he couldn’t help but think.

A round portal appeared near the wooden boxes she had been checking out earlier and inside it, he can see the view of a building’s main door. First, he turned his attention towards the boxes and tried to imagine what was inside them. _Are those… his explosives?,_ he tried to think a reason why –if they were– would she want them. Next, he focused on the view inside the portal, which reminded him of somewhere he knew but couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was now. Her hands kept moving, the boxes being elevated like him and then started dancing towards the other side of the portal.

 _Is she twelve?,_ he wanted to laugh at such a childlike behavior.

He felt the invisible restraints around him start weakening a bit, his body immediately oozing to move and defend itself against her ministrations.

She snapped her fingers the moment the boxes crossed the portal and it disappeared into thin air.

Jason tried not to think about whether she could do the same thing but with him.

_I’m not fucking dying again. Not yet!, his mind screamed internally._

The raven-haired turned around and lowered her hand, his body finally being placed on the ground. She pursed her annoying lips prettily, then a smile bloomed on them. His body might be controlled by her, but he feels her power over him weaken by the second.

Jason was gonna go at her like a fucking wild animal. No one toyed with him like this and lived to tell the tale.

“Now, would you please sit down like a good boy and let me leave unharmed?” she mocked him and they both already knew the answer to that silly question.

He smirked, slowly regaining control over his body and filling the need to roll his shoulders as if getting ready to lift weights.

“No can do, sweetheart.” His voice was too raspy for his own liking, but damn him if he didn’t like powerful women.

She walked towards him, her hips swaying while walking, a pout on her plump shiny limps. Finally, when she was chest to chest with him, she looked up at him and a smile escaped her.

The annoying with pouts, this time too exaggerated as if mocking him once again, “Pity… I would have even invited you to a drink or something.”

 _Is she…? Damn, the minx was flirting with him.;_ he realized with a wolfish grin.

He lowered his head, his control over his body almost fully recovered, yet she stayed calm and composed. She was clearly not scared of him and he felt his treacherous cock twitch a bit.

 _Just a bit.,_ he tried to lie to himself.

“Let me go.”

The annoying minx laughed at what he said.

“As if I’m that stupid.” She patted his chest with her left hand, leaning into him and he cursed his damned protective armor for malfunctioning and not electrocuting the small witch. “You will turn me into a colander. So, no. Your guns stay where they are, thank you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, amused at what she thinks he would do to her.

 _Oh, no… I would use anything but my guns with you;_ he wanted to tell her, a new wolfish grin eating his lips.

“I could go slow… be gentle.”

She moaned and he couldn’t help himself but take a step further, his hands twinkling with the need to be used. His body betraying him once again, despite having mastered self-control during his years with the League.

“As tempting as that sounds, I will have to pass on that… You see,” She patted his chest for emphasis one last time, nodding along to what she had said and then shrugged her shoulders. “I’m an old-fashioned girl, so you would have to take me to dinner first. Perhaps sweep me off my feet?”

The raven-haired turned around, leaving him there, her ponytail swaying along to her hips and a new portal popped up, the same view from before. She walked inside it, not paying him any attention until she was standing on the other side.

He finally feels in full control of his own body.

Her hand raised up as if she was throwing something at him, and suddenly, the walls of the warehouse start rapidly crumbling on him. He quickly used his hook, always ready for extreme situations like this one, and points at a high window that is closing down on him.

Jason escapes from the crumbling building propelled by his hook, free-falling when he is out of the broken building, and he performed a few somersaults in the air until hitting the pavement.

When he was finally safe on the parking lot, he turned around and saw that all that was left of the building was rubble and more rubble. He sighed, his body still tingled with the need for action, and he put away his hook in one of the many pockets of his leather jacket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registered the thugs the witch had knocked out before rising up from the floor, quickly getting ready to pounce.

He sighed dramatically again, though really, he was more relieved that he wouldn’t go home with all that excess energy locked in his muscles.

His punching bag could only do so much.

“It’s clearly not my day.”

**[ - - - ]**

On Friday night, Poison Ivy had managed to escape from the incompetent GCPD thanks to Harley Quinn and some strategical well-placed explosives.

Many cops had died, some on the spot, others on the hospital.

Add to all of that that it was clear as a day that Bruce was not happy about him killing thugs again and that a meta was roaming around his city –which Dick told him all about in one of his annoyingly long worried text messages–, Jason wasn’t sure how Bruce hadn’t burst a blood vessel and used him as his personal punching bag.

Yet, his cold shoulder hurt more than any physical injury Bruce could inflict on him.

So, despite the others actively searching for Poison Ivy, Quinn and the meta throughout Gotham City –and even in Bludhaven– he kept his mouth shut about what a key piece of information.

What he had seen on the portal.

 _Take that, B.,_ he thought with a middle finger up to an imaginary Bruce.

Bruce was giving him the cold shoulder and he felt like screwing up Bruce’s search party for the annoying witch.

Also, this whole situation felt rather personal to him after how she had effortlessly toyed with him. He kind of wanted to see what would happen if they ran into each other again, his whole body shaking with the need for another round.

And curiosity always got the best of him.

Or the _worst_ , considering what happened in Qurac.

Nevertheless, Jason quickly realized that what he saw on the portal was Toxic Acres’s newly built houses. He immediately went there, his helmet protecting him against the toxicity of the air, expecting to find her safehouse and a rematch. He started looking around until thirty minutes later, he spotted the building’s main door he had seen.

He had remembered a few wildflowers with blue and red blossoms placed near the entrance in dark green pots. Strangely, only one apartment building had them, but it made the job easier for him. It seemed luck was on his side this time. Thus, he stationed on the apartment rooftop ‘s in front of his target and quickly discovered that the reason for said flowers blooming was none other than the fugitive Poison Ivy hiding there.

Jason observed for a few days, also discovering that Quinn and her two ugly pets were residing with the redhead. Yet, instead of going down there and apprehend the duo as he would have usually done, he waited around.

He was waiting for the little witch.

After two days, on Monday’s night, he saw through his rifle’s optic a new portal appearing in front of the apartment complex’s main door.

She walked out of it, clad with the same equipment as last time, and he couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of a rematch.

 _And her quick mouth_.; his lips curling in a smirk.

The raven-haired burst through the door and he shadowed her using his hook to land on the building’s roof. He ran towards the roof access and kicked the door down, not bothering with the lever.

His mind was going a mile a minute, a childlike excitement he hadn’t felt since a long time ago almost oozing from his body. Jason used all his restraint on not visibly shake from excitement.

He kicked the door from what he was sure the apartment above Quinn and Ivy’s one, already hearing the commotion from below all thanks to the sepulchral silence of the neighborhood.

The floor below him exploded and it seems luck was again on his side, for his immediate surroundings remained intact while the others around him blew up.

Jason saw the three women, yet soon his eyes stuck on the petite witch.

A wolfish grin bloomed on his lips.

_Let’s see what more you’ve got in store, little witch._

**[ - - - ]**

The night breeze made his brown leather jacket flap and sway while he jumped from one building to the other effortlessly. Two days had passed since he almost died thanks to the eco-terrorist redhead and his mind was going a hundred miles per second.

Jason couldn’t slow down, his mind and body running thanks to the many Red Bulls and coffees he had chugged down. Also, the high adrenaline and tension his body was feeling helped his case.

He, who had come back from the dead, didn’t want to die again.

The pit might have _sort of_ fixed his scrambled mind, given him more strength, agility and stamina than the standard male specimen should have, but he wasn’t immortal.

One day, he would die again, and Bruce would forget about him once again.

Everyone would.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lot of movement coming from the building in front of the one he was standing on. He stayed still and saw that it was happening on one of the alleyways, his jaw and fist clenched instinctively when he saw someone running away from the alley.

Nothing good ever happened in Gotham City’s alleyways.

Much less in Crime Alley.

Once again, he readied his grappling hook and landed smoothly on the building’s roof, calmly walking towards the left side and looking over the edge. Down there on the dark alley, illuminated only by the moonlight and the near streetlight, someone was beating the crap out of another individual.

Jason scanned the attacker and when a beam of the moonlight illuminated their faces, a smirk bloomed on his lips.

The little witch was smacking someone’s head against one of the big dumpsters on the alleyway.

Instinctively, he looked around the scene, trying to guess what could have happened. He quickly located a big pocketknife thrown near the entrance of the alley, the blade shinning thanks to the light coming from the near streetlight, and then he scanned the guy who was now unconscious with probably a big concussion near the dumpster. He was bald, many tattoos on his arms and neck, and looked like those who lived around the neighborhood.

The bald guy probably tried to mug the one who ran away and she stepped in.

 _And I thought the little witch only liked to steal… interesting.;_ he couldn’t help but think.

He jumped and landed on top of one of the big dumpsters (not the one she had been using to open the guy’s skull open), the lid closing entirely because of his weight, and stared at her back while she kneeled, picking up the pocketknife.

“Now now, why are you fighting those of your guild?”

She turned around and first threw the pocketknife where the unconscious dude was, then she threw her head back a bit to see him better.

“Oh, it’s you.” She rested a hand on her chest, her lips opening in feigned surprise. Then, she dropped the act and shrugged. “Don’t take it personally, but here I thought I might cross paths with Robin. Heard so much about the little guy…”

He held a huff, jumping from the dumpster to the floor and near a puddle of who knows what.

The Demon Spawn wasn’t even close to his level, so why would she want to meet the kid? Perhaps it was the curiosity of meeting the famous Boy Wonder, the sidekick to the Batman, whose mantle ran for many years and was an iconic figure in Gotham City.

“Trust me, little witch. The kid would have disappointed you. He is a total brat.”

She laughed and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Oh, really? That’s not what I heard about the Boy Wonder at all…” she pouted as if disappointed at what he said about Damian. Suddenly, her pout disappeared at the same time her arms dropped beside her body. “Hold up, hold up. What did you just call me?”

He took a step closer and she did the same, the girl probably didn’t know what the concept of backing down meant.

She pressed her lips together, placing her hands on her hips.

“Who are you calling Little Witch, you… you… you big oaf?!”

A loud laugh escaped him.

“You didn’t tell me who you were, so now you are officially _little witch_.” he clicked his tongue, a new smirk on his lips, and took another step towards her. “Though I could also call you _little rude witch_. Which one do you like best?”

Now they stood close, almost chest to chest, and the situation reminded him of their other two _accidental meetings_. They always ended up in the same position and normally it would have bothered him, yet in this case, it didn’t.

Jason knew that if he didn’t act quickly, he would end either with a dumpster being thrown at him or with a painful blast connecting to his stomach. So, he quickly grabbed her hands and locked them behind her back. When he saw that her chest just barely touched above the beginning of his abs, he let out a low laugh and lowered his head a bit.

The petite girl wrestled his hold, trying to break free, and he tightened it a bit more so she would stay put.

“How dare you?”

He lowered his head even more while she threw her head back.

“Payback is a bitch, rude girl.”

“Let me go.”

“Nope.”

“Immediately!”

She struggled again with his hold but to no avail; he was much stronger than her physically and it was fairly easy to overpower her.

“Nah.”

“Oaf!”

“Witch.”

She pursed her lips, a red tint appearing on her sun-kissed cheeks and stomped on the floor like a little girl throwing a fit because she didn’t get what she wanted.

“I’m going to kick your ass, you will see.”

“In your dreams, sweetheart.”

Next thing he knew, she kneed him on the balls with all her strength. When seeing no reaction coming out of him, the raven-haired tried it once again and he laughed out loud at her pathetic attempt. He always wore a thick groin protector, so he didn’t feel anything whatsoever.

“That’s it?”

“Shut. It.”

“Nah…” The mocking phrase that she had used on him came to his mind and he smirked wolfishly. “You big baby.”

She pressed her lips together, probably pissed at him throwing her words back at her face and tilted her head to the right.

“I saved you! So why are you acting like this?”

He tsked at that.

“I don’t recall asking you to help me.”

She huffed; the sound almost childish in his ears.

“Oh, shut it. Anyone would have done the same!” she stomped her foot again. “It’s called being emphatic and a good human being!”

He blinked, completely surprised at his words.

“Trust me, most around me wouldn’t have done it.”

Her button nose scrunched, and he holds back a smile.

“That’s… that’s sad, Red.”

She craned her neck, her lips pursing a bit, and he shrugged nonchalantly. It didn’t phase him that many people would prefer him dead than alive, it just meant he was doing his job well.

Also, he had already died once.

Nothing scary there.

“Red… let me go or I will throw a dumpster on your stupid helmet.”

He shrugged again, not even scared about her empty threat.

“Do it and it will hit you too.”

“You… you big oaf! Let me go! Let me go!”

Suddenly, litter and rubbish started hitting his back without missing a beat, while the raven-haired started shaking on his arms. He felt his hands burning while holding hers still, yet he tightened his hold.

“I said let me go!”

The white lenses of her domino mask glowed as bright as the sun and when she yelled next —a quiet shriek—, he felt as if someone sucker-punched him with the strength of a nuclear bomb and he let his hold on her hands, feeling lightheaded.

He dropped to his knees, falling on the puddle that smelled like dog shit, and saw small shiny dots on his vision.

Again, the girl had fucking knocked him out.

Sort of.

“Oh my god… I’m sorry!” he looked up, the shiny dots slowly deeming, when she kneeled in front of him. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why but you just reminded me of… I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, blinking until the dots completely disappeared and then at his own hands. They stung quite a bit and when he saw them, he realized that his gloves had melted around his palms, his skin visible and flushed red, clearly burnt.

“Oh god, did I do that?” she carefully picked his hands, her lips quivering. “This has never happened before.”

She placed his hands between hers carefully and sighed shakily, her forehead lowering until touching the skin on the back of her hand.

The raven-haired girl exhaled loudly but this time it sounded steadier than before.

“What are you…?”

He shut his mouth up when he saw a glowing light emanating from where their joint hands were, though her head eclipsed most of it. First, it seemed the light started low, but it increased until being almost blindly. During all of that, he felt his palms twinkling and stinging until the light dimmed and the sensation stopped altogether.

She raised her head and stared at him, though he first took a look at his palms.

They were healed completely and no longer red.

“Forgive me, Red.”

He raised his eyes and stared back at her, for once running out of words to say and tried to grab her hands when she pulled them away. 

Jason was unsuccessful and unintentionally, he clenched his jaw.

She rose up and turned around, opening a portal behind her. He tried standing up, but he started feeling funny and his knees gave up.

Her long ponytail shook when she walked through it and then turned around, looking at him with a sad smile on her lips.

“I’m truly sorry.” 


	7. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexual assault mention and hinted
> 
> (the scene will be marked with an ^ before starting]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! HELLO!
> 
> I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW. I have been MIA and it's inexcusable, I know, but I have a good reason: I studied and passed my driving license test (the theoretical one). It was hard because studying in a crowded house with all members not going out due to COVID-19 and not feeling my best... it was an experience.
> 
> Anyways, to celebrate Jason's birthday I decided to post the new chapter today!
> 
> Thank you for the many comments, hits and kudos. They have motivated me a lot and make me excited and happy to be writing this little story of mine.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think of the new chapter, where this story is going or anything you want to say. I love all your comments. Also, I changed the narration to a past tense because after writing from Jason's point, I felt more comfortable sticking to a past tense. It reads better, or at least for me. Do you like it or do you prefer the present tense? If I see you all like the past tense, I will edit and change the past chapters and synopsis. If you all like the present one, I will edit this one.
> 
> Anyways, as usual, I don't have a beta reader so if there are any grammatical mistakes or anything wrong, I'm sorry.
> 
> Much love and see ya on the next one! xx

> _“My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds.”_ _― Steve Goodier_

“I don’t think blue suits me...”

Grace looked up from her copy of Dante Alighieri’s _The Divine Comedy_ and rolled her eyes, clearly seeing Lisa looking at her through the connected mirror between their styling stations. The bubbly chattering around them made the music that flew through the speakers of the hair salon barely audible.

“Too late, dumbass.” she nodded towards her friend while crossing her legs, then nonchalantly turned a new page of her book. “The hair dye is already on your big stupid head.”

“She said it would be a pastel blue color, but it looks plain blue! “

The raven-haired sighed while skimming through the new page, not spearing a look at her no-longer-blonde best friend. Grace was patiently waiting for the hairdresser to finish applying another client’s hair dye so she could finally assist and style her hair nicely, but it seemed she would have to calm down her friend first.

God knows Lisa was more than capable of putting on a show when something wasn’t going the way she thought it should.

Also, why not treat and pamper herself?

It wasn’t like she was going somewhere nice or on a date like Lisa, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t treat herself once in a while. Plus, it would have been quite boring to just sit on a stool and wait for Lisa to finish her impromptu makeover.

“It’s the dye that looks darker now, but it won’t look like that when they wash it off.”

Lisa hummed to that, then tilted her head a bit. “I’m not so sure about that… “

She rolled her eyes once again.

“Well, I am.” She puckered her lips, annoyed that she wasn’t registering the words on the page. “And I’m sure the hairdresser knows what she is doing…”

A few seconds passed while Grace happily started reading her book again, her concentration finally kicking in, while her best friend probably read something on her phone. She flipped the page and started reading the first paragraph when once again, but the silence between them was quickly broken by Lisa’s voice.

“Can I borrow the skirt you are wearing for tonight’s date with Jules?”

She furrowed her brows at that and looked up, quickly analyzing her skirt through the reflection on the mirror. It was a long and vibrant red skirt with a print of white flowers all over it, high-waisted and it reached her ankles with a high slit on her left leg. The moment Dan had shown her the design, she had fallen in love with it. Months later her good friend, a fashion student at Gotham University, had gifted her the prototype for her first birthday on Gotham City and it always brought warmth to her heart when she looked at it. Today, she had paired it with low white heels fastened at her ankles and a white knitted sweater with a boat neck.

It had been two weeks since the night she stopped the mugger and despite still being October, –hence it was still quite cold– when she searched through her closet for something to wear, she saw the skirt and felt like wearing it. Plus, her long camel coat, sweater and knitted gloves kept her warm enough so there wasn’t much problem with her flowery skirt and summer heels.

“Nope. I don’t want to wait seven months for you to finally give it back.”

Lisa huffed loudly, clearly outraged by her words.

“It was one time!”

“What about the red velvet top and the leather black dress?”

“Okay, thrice but still!” she turned towards her on the styling chair and put her hands together, giving her the best puppy eyes Grace had ever seen. “I’m gonna ask Jules to be my girlfriend and I need to look my best! So, please!? Pretty please!?”

Grace raised a brow at that.

Jules, the cute blonde waitress, finally texted Lisa back the day after her second encounter with Red Hood, and since then her best friend had been going out almost every day with the waitress.

 _“And don’t start me on how they are texting each other every two seconds…”_ she couldn’t help but think, trying not to roll her eyes.

“You’ve been on so many dates together… isn’t it obvious that you are already together?”

Lisa frowned at what she just said, as if she didn’t get it.

“Yeah, but you have to ask so it’s _official!”_ the now blue-haired clicked her tongue and shook her head, which worried the raven-haired because her friend’s hair was up with a claw clip and all wet with hair dye, so she could stain the styling white chair and that would be a pain to clean for the poor hairdressers. “Wouldn’t you like to be asked if you were seeing someone?”

Grace considered what her friend had just asked.

Her thoughts immediately jumped to him.

She conjured in her mind a sharp jawline, strong arms and soft lips.

 _“Him_.”

The raven-haired couldn’t help but think about the guy in her dreams. Despite his face always completely shadowed or hidden from her, these past two weeks he had been appearing more and more in her dreams. Sometimes she dreamt of both cuddling in her bed, caressing each other just like the first time; other times she dreamt about them in her sofa, her leaning against his chest while talking about literature or art, and even once she dreamed of him kissing her in one of the many rooftops of Gotham City.

Her dream guy was either living now rent-free on her mind or she was getting a tad bit obsessed with him.

It was probably the latter.

She nodded at what her friend said, sort of getting what she meant with _officially,_ but actually agreeing with her just so Lisa would move along the conversation and not talk her ear off.

“I guess I would…”

“No!?”

Lisa let out an exciting shriek and Grace first looked at her alarmed, then scanned their surroundings. She hadn’t detected any auras with bad or even evil intentions around them but thinking about the guy in her dreams always distracted her and nowadays, she had started to not pay attention to people’s auras unless it was an absolute necessity –she wasn’t a snoopy.

“What? What?”

The blue-haired pointed at her, mischievously smiling with excitement all over her face.

“Are you seeing someone, you bitch?”

Grace blinked a couple times, completely confused at what her friend meant.

“Come again?”

“You should have seen your face just now! You were so thinking about someone!”

 _“Yeah, my dream guy.”_ She couldn’t help but think at first, then quickly choosing to omit that and instead said: “No, I wasn’t!”

She felt her cheeks redden and internally cursed at her own ineptitude to lie.

“Oh my god, you are even blushing! You are totally seeing someone!” her friend excitedly shrieked again, jumping a bit on the styling chair and stomping her feet like an excited child. “Why haven’t you told me? Who is he? Is he hot? Tell me! Tell me!”

The raven-haired quickly looked around, embarrassed at her friend’s antics and saw that thankfully no one was paying them any attention.

“Tone it down!”

“So, you are! You didn’t say no!”

Grace remembered how throughout her high school days, her mother always said that Lisa was like an excited puppy when she got happy or excited about something. Back then, she never saw that likeness but now she really did, and the resemblance almost makes her laugh loudly.

“Grace!”

She blinked, lost in childhood and high school memories were she only laughed and had fun. The days spent together with Lisa and her good friend Alice shopping around, going to the cinema or going out for smoothies and coffee; or the summers spent sailing on her family’s yacht either in the Bahamas or Cali with family friends; or the weekends going to the Equestrian Club and playing polo with her close friends and family.

The raven-haired sighed quietly, missing those easier times.

“I... I…”

“You totally are!” Once again Lisa let out a few happy shrieks, misjudging what Grace had been thinking while stomping her feet. “Yaas, that’s my girl! Get that dick! Yaas!”

“Dick?”

Grace blushed and quickly shushed her friend one more time, though her chastisement would more than likely fall on deaf ears.

“Lisa, for God’s sake!”

“Tell me about him!”

They both yelled at the same time.

Grace tried not to roll her eyes at how spot-on she had been, Lisa doing deaf ears and continuing her “interrogation”, and instead, she sighed loudly to annoy her friend.

The raven-haired already kept many things from Lisa and she had always felt bad about lying and hiding certain aspects of her life, so perhaps talking about this it would ease the burden on her shoulders and soul a bit.

She mused about how to properly express herself and not sound like she was going crazy, because it surely would worry Lisa to know that she was imagining a man almost every night. Also, knowing her best friend as good as she did, the blue-haired would probably end up thinking that Grace had gone completely mad because of her long period of men-abstinence and quickly run to alert her parents.

Grace couldn’t let that happen.

Though she could talk about the other new man in her life. After all, their _special_ relationship was anything but normal. They fought, they _sort of_ flirted and got in each other’s nerves – at first, it was mainly her getting on his, but now he was getting quite good on getting on hers–, however it was all just for fun and nothing serious.

Also, the raven-haired was _trying_ to avoid him after losing her cool and burning his hands. Key word being _trying because_ he made it quite difficult, with chasing after her while she jumped from rooftop to rooftop trying to avoid him and all.

Her efforts had been mediocre, to say the least.

She was so embarrassed of what had happened she couldn’t fake cockiness as she usually did and look him in the eye – _or should she say slit of eyes on his stupid helmet? –_ So, now when she went out, twice or thrice every week, to sort of _patrol_ the city or something, he kept appearing and trying to verbally argue with her. It was like he had become obsessed with her and kept track of what she was doing.

_“Stalker.”_

Anyways, if she had any romantic relationship in her life, it was with her bed and the man that appeared more than once when she fell into Morpheus' arms.

She quietly reassured herself that a white lie would be the best for both her and her friend. _“Yes, I can sort of telling her about Red… He isn’t a figment of my imagination, but an annoying and very much alive person.”_

“Okay… Remember the night you met Jules? When you left me stranded on the nightclub so you could go and hook up with her? Well, I met this guy and these past weeks we have _coincidentally_ ran into each other many times.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but it was close. After all, because of her meeting with Quinn she did end up meeting Red Hood. “I don’t know why but when I met him, I might have flirted a _little_ bit and now whenever we run into each other, I might keep doing it because why not!?”

“Yas, girl. Get that D!”

“It’s not about that!”

“Oh… so he is ugly?”

Grace laughed loudly.

“No, he is very muscular, very strong and very tall…”

Her friend quickly interrupted her.

“Sorry, but everyone is taller than you, Grace.”

“Oi!” she smacked her friend’s arm which earned her a middle finger from Lisa. “Seriously, he is super tall… As in 6-feet-and-something tall!”

Lisa giggled and then smiled widely.

“Oh my god, you probably look adorable together!”

She shrugged. “ _Yeah, two weeks ago we fought and something he said triggered me, so I ended up burning his fucking hands as if I wanted to make roasted chicken with them. Really adorable, yeah!”_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hairdresser that assisted Lisa much earlier on fast approaching them, a terse smile on her lips while pocketing a pair of scissors in one of the many pockets on her black smock jacket.

“Let’s wash the dye off, shall we?” The middle-aged hairstylist interrupted them, placing her hands in Lisa’s shoulders. Then, she looked towards her and smiled kindly. “One of my colleagues will assist you now, I’m sorry you waited so much.”

She smiled kindly too, not bothered at all that she had had to wait. It was her day off, she wasn’t in any rush.

“Sure, no problem.”

Then, she turned towards her friend and winked, who childishly pouted because they had been interrupted and she couldn’t interrogate her further about the mysterious guy.

_“Saved by the bell! Yay!”_

**[***]**

The raven-haired got off the elevator on her floor and sighed loudly, her head pounding nonstop from what she recognized as an imminent migraine. After finishing on the hair salon, Lisa had given her the third degree relentlessly until she had finally gotten off on her stop in the subway.

Grace had had still two more stops before finally getting to Gotham Village.

She slowly walked towards her door but reined back quickly when she saw something pink lying on her doormat.

A bouquet of pink gorgeous flowers.

Grace folded her torso and picked it up, bringing the flowers closer to her nose and smelling the blossoms. The strong scent was fruity and sweet which indicated that they were fresh, probably delivered while she was out this evening but not long ago.

She saw a white note poking out of the bouquet and took it out, her eyes skimming quickly over it.

_“Rhododendron”_

The calligraphy looked sophisticated and dapper, but she didn’t recognize it or even understood the meaning behind the lonely word written on it.

She opened her door and rapidly locked it behind her with her keys. Then, she marched towards her kitchen and sat on one of the high stools beside the isle. The raven-haired unfastened her heels and kicked them off, both plopping on the floor loudly.

Grace unlocked her phone and opened her Safari app, browsing _flower symbolism_ and skimming through the website until deciding on checking the Wikipedia link. She read the long list of flowers and its meanings until finally finding it.

 _Rhododendron: Warning, Beware._

“What the hell?”

A knot appeared on her throat, not letting her swallow and finish her words.

She instantly closed her eyes and let a wave of her power slide from her hands upon the bouquet, searching for any life force or anything impregnated on it. There was a faint presence of life, probably coming from the person who had delivered it on her doorstep earlier, but it was so faint she could barely register any emotions and follow its trail to the owner.

Unfortunately for her, it had been too long since it was delivered.

The raven-haired scrunched her nose annoyed.

She got up from the stool and left the blossoms with the note beside it on her kitchen isle, deciding on not paying much more attention to a simple bouquet of flowers.

Whatever she was supposed to be aware of or warned about couldn’t possibly hurt her.

She was no longer weak or fragile.

Grace had grown thorns and she drew blood from whatever tried to hold her down.

**[***] ^**

Grace punched the guy square in the face who in turn groaned loudly. She kneed him on the stomach and twisted his arm behind his back, making him drop to his knees while he let out a pained cry.

She looked up towards the woman curled and crying against the corner of the rooftop. The girl couldn’t possibly be older than her, brunette and with a sweet round face. She was completely disheveled, her jacket thrown far away from where she was, her pajama pants nowhere to be seen (she guessed they were pajamas because of her t-shirt with a big Bugs Bunny print in the middle) and her panties lowered to her shaking ankles.

“She said no!” she placed her black heeled boot in the middle of his back and twisted his arm further towards where his shoulder was. “You disgusting piece of shit!”

“I’m sorry!”

She laughed and shook her head, not believing at all what he was saying, and decided to drop his broken arm. Then, she lowered herself to his level and tugged at his dark hair, making him look at her.

“You are not… you are just sorry you were caught, so let’s cut the bullshit.”

His thin lip was busted, one of his eyes was starting to swell and blood was continuously dripping from his fat broken nose.

“Please…”

“She also begged, yet you didn’t stop.” Grace patted one of his cheeks with her free hand and smiled tightly, squeezing tightly his cheeks while almost spitting the next words. “So why should I stop, huh?”

“I won’t do it again! Please! Please!”

“Of course you won’t.”

The raven-haired tugged him up and shoved him towards the rim of the rooftop, while the cries from the girl made her grow even angrier by the second.

“No! No, please! I have kids and a wife!”

She turned him around and stopped tugging his hair, dropping the hand and letting it rest on her side.

“Then I’m doing them a favor.”

She kicked him straight in the center of the chest and he fell off the roof, his terrified scream following his drop. She smiled when she heard a heavy sickening sound –most probably the sound of the man colliding into a car or motorbike and dying– and her shoulders finally relaxed.

Her mind went a thousand per mile though, while an ugly feeling appeared at the pit of her stomach; but when Grace turned around any remorse disappeared. Slowly, she walked towards the curled form that was the girl, a soft smile appearing on her lips while she raised her hands.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.”

The girl looked up at her completely terrified, her doe eyes full of tears, puffy and red from crying so much, knees tugged against her chest and busted lip quivering with a bit of blood smeared on her chin.

She kneeled a foot away from her, leaving a bit of space and not touching her.

Grace had been in her situation and she knew the girl wouldn’t like people either touching her or too near her.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she tilted her head a bit, still smiling softly and waved with one of her gloved hands, as a silent salutation. Then, she placed it on her left breast and motioned towards the girl. “I’m Grace and I won’t hurt you.”

There was a long, pregnant silence that felt eternal until the girl nodded and sniffled loudly, looking at her hand with fright and incommodity, all while trembling nonstop.

“I’m… I’m Amanda.”

“Hi, Amanda. I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances.” Grace sighed saddened, truly feeling her heartbreaking by the moment. “What were you doing here alone? Do you live here? Or did he kidnap you…?”

“No, my apartment is downstairs… I couldn’t… I couldn’t sleep and I… I thought a bit of night air would help and… I come here sometimes when that happens!” the girl looked down at her knees, crying and sniffling panicked. “He appeared out of nowhere… I didn’t even hear him and… he… he… Oh god!”

She tried not to cry at what the poor girl was saying, her hands shaking a bit though she quickly hid them on her lap.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He won’t hurt you anymore.” She tried to calm her down, her hands jumping from their place and making the motion of slowing down. “I’m going to walk you to your apartment and you will call the police. They will come and you will have to report what happened, despite him being dead, and they will probably escort you to the nearest hospital to do a rape kit. But whatever you hear, it wasn’t your fault.”

The girl’s bottom lip shook, still sniffling through her runny nose and tears dropping from her big red eyes.

“Repeat after me, Amanda.” She slowly said the next words. “It wasn’t my fault, I’m the victim.”

The brunette nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Amanda, repeat it. C’mon.”

“It wasn’t… It wasn’t my fault.”

“Good, good. I want you to say those words out loud every time you feel bad or guilty about it.” She smiled and nodded along what she was saying confidently, so the girl would believe her. “Because trust me, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

The girl nodded and cried, her lips curling in a sad silent sob.

“Now, let’s go downstairs.” Amanda nodded at that and still trembling, put her panties up. Grace extended her hand and smiled encouragingly. “Can you stand up or do you need help?”

Amanda looked at her hand for a bit, nodded as if encouraging herself and took it, standing slowly on weak legs.

“Can I place my arm around you, so you don’t fall while walking?”

The girl shook her head and took a loud sniffle, considering for a second what she said.

“Yes.”

Grace did that and slowly they both walked towards the door on the rooftop. She tilted her head towards the right and the door opened, the doorknob faintly glowing blue. It seemed Amanda didn’t register the next few seconds, looking completely out of it and staring at the ground while they descended the stairs.

“What floor is your apartment in?”

“Sixth… 603.”

“Okay, we are almost there.”

When they both reached her floor and stood a few paces away from apartment 603, Grace did the same as she did with the roof’s door.

“Do you live alone or have a roommate?”

“I live with… my best friend. Mel… I mean, Melody.”

They walked inside and Grace yelled the name of the roommate, who seconds later appeared groggily and with bed hair with a bat on her hand.

“What… what…” the redhead asked sleepily, looking at Amanda and then zooming on her totally bewildered. Then, her eyes turned again towards Amanda and truly saw her state. “Amanda!? Oh my god, what happened!?”

She quickly helped Grace sit the brunette down on the black leather sofa, alarm and panic on her eyes, while the raven-haired kneeled in front of Amanda on the sofa.

“Melody, I need you to call the police and tell them there’s been a sexual assault, so they need to come.” She quickly bossed the roommate, who looked at her completely horrified while the raven-haired tugged at a purple blanket discarded on the top of the sofa, draping it over Amanda. Grace probably looked a bit frightening on her black suit and domino mask with white tinted lenses. “Stay with her, don’t leave her alone. Okay?”

“Yes… Yes.”

Melody ran towards her room, faster than probably The Flash, probably to call GCPD.

“Amanda, I’m leaving but you will be alright.” she smiled kindly again towards the girl, who looked at her with her scared doe eyes. “Remember what I said, okay?”

She nodded, her lips curling a bit in something similar to a smile.

“Good.”

She went to walk out of the apartment but stopped on the threshold.

“Oh, and my name?” Grace looked over her shoulder and felt her cheeks redden. “Let’s keep it between us girls, please?”

Amanda nodded again, this time a tiny smile clearly graced her lips and Grace knew the brunette wouldn’t rat her out.

Without looking back, she walked out of the apartment and paraded up the stairs towards the roof, deciding that she needed to leave before the cops, or any other vigilante, appeared and caught her right there. She might have helped a girl, but she also killed a man and she didn’t want to go to jail.

The brunette’s face appeared on her mind and she closed her eyes tightly, pained at what had happened.

“Oh, Amanda…”

She stopped and leaned her body on the railing of the stairs, almost throwing up. It hit too close to home. Throughout the whole thing, her body and mind had gone on in autopilot; but now the reality sunk down on her and it was too much.

Despite the years, it still felt too soon for her to deal with something like this without crying or throwing up. Yet, this is why she went out.

Her main motivation.

Grace felt her eyes sting and she knew that soon, she would be a crying and sobbing mess. Until, and thank goodness for that, she sensed it and instantly, she rose her head towards the ceiling.

 _“Red’s aura.”_

Grace felt the scalding warmth and fierce passion radiating from the aura that stood up on the rooftop entrance.

Red Hood was here.

She straightened her posture, walked up the last stairs and sighed dramatically when crossing the threshold of the roof’s door. While she was going to feign cockiness in a few seconds, the small smile appearing on her lips was totally real.

At least that was something good.

“I’m starting to believe you are obsessed with me.”

There was a pregnant silence for a few seconds.

“Is the girl okay?”

She smiled at Red Hood’s modified voice, the worry clearly hidden in those words, and walked towards the railing in front of her. Grace turned around and leaned on the railing, her posture completely different from her dejected self from before and shrugged her shoulders. He jumped down, the movement quite graceful for someone so big and brute-looking and stood in front of the roof’s door, blocking the entrance.

“As okay as she can be with what just happened to her.”

Her lips curled in a sad smile.

He nodded, crossing his arms at his impressive and wide chest.

“You killed him.”

She adjusted her gloves and nonchalantly shrugged again.

“Yeah, I did.”

“You should have handed him to the police.” He tsked at her, his next words tinted with humor. “The Bat won’t like what you just did.”

“Fuck Batman.”

He laughed broadly; his head tilted to the side while placing his gloved hands on his hips. Then, he took a step closer to her.

“You really are something else.”

“From what I have gathered of you, you used to kill rapists, pimps and pedophiles… So, don’t be a hypocrite and leave me be.”

“Oh, so you have looked me up?”

He took another step, his red helmet head tilting to the side once more.

Grace huffed and smirked, crossing her arms under her breasts, despite it being hard and protected with her Kevlar armor.

“As if you haven’t done the same, Red.”

He laughed a bit, nodding and stopping in front of her.

“I did.” She threw her head back, his height making it hard for her to see his redhead without doing so. “Gonna be honest and say I didn’t find much.”

She laughed at his honesty, her lips curling a bit on a cocky smile.

It felt good to be a step ahead of him.

“I can’t say the same, your curriculum is quite impressive…” she tilted her head, her hands going behind her and grabbing the railing. “And extensive.”

He nodded, looking at his left as if there was something interesting there, and suddenly rubbed his neck.

“You have been avoiding me.”

She smiled calmly, though inside she felt embarrassed.

“And you’ve been stalking me.”

He instantly turned to look at her, again crossing his arms at his chest and huffed.

“You are not that important, Little Witch.” He tilted his head and she would bet her parents fortune that he was smiling sardonically at her. “Get down from your high horse.”

“Doesn’t look like it, stalker.”

“You little sh–”

Suddenly, he interrupted himself and his arms dropped, standing limply at his sides.

“Get out of here.”

Grace blinked a couple of times, completely confused.

“Come again?”

He grabbed her left arm and tugged her towards him, his helmet face lowering so it would be easier for her look at him.

“Batman and Co are seconds away from doing their great entrance. So, trust me, you don’t want to meet him after killing that dude.” She blinked again, not getting him. “I get why you did it, but he won’t. So, get the fuck out.”

He pushed her towards the door, the movement weak so she would get the memo, while his hold on her arm still remained there.

“Okay, okay.”

Yet his face still was turned towards her.

“We will have a chat next time though.”

She smiled sweetly and nodded, tugging her arm away from his hold and he released it.

“Of course, my dear stalker.”

He pointed towards the door.

“Out.”

Grace turned around and waved her hand, a portal appearing on the threshold. When she crossed it, she rose her hand and waved it a bit.

“See ya, Red.”

A low hum was his answer.

**[***]**

Grace didn’t sleep a wink that night.

She showered with hot scalding water that felt as painful against her skin as if she was showering with lava.

The raven-haired drew Amanda’s saddened face until the pads of her fingers hurt from too much pressure and her eyes burned from concentrating so hard on the sketchpad.

She showered again, the water as hot as the first time and her skin feeling too sensitive from rubbing too much and from the scalding water.

Grace Henderson threw up her dinner, sobbed against her pillow and ended up showering once again.

**Author's Note:**

> hello, there.
> 
> as a big fan of Jason Todd and the Batman Universe (not the DC universe as a whole, though. It is a mess!) I have always felt like my boy deserved, and still does, much better. like he deserves much more love and appreciation than he currently gets.
> 
> moreover, I have been cooking this idea for a long time and these past weeks I finally sat down and developed them. 
> 
> i hope you guys are able to fall in love with the main character, Grace, while reading this as much as I have while writing her.
> 
> see you in the next chapter!
> 
> much love. xx


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